


Not Like This

by StarshipHufflebadger



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Leonard McCoy - Freeform, Reader Insert, Soulmate AU, Soulmates, leonard mccoy reader insert, soulmate-shared thoughts, star trek reader insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-17
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-03 11:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 22,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11531700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarshipHufflebadger/pseuds/StarshipHufflebadger
Summary: Reader finds her soulmate and is later involved in a shuttle crash, prompting said soulmate to find and care for her. (Reader insert)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Please review/leave comments if you loved it! <3

             It happened on your first day at the Academy.  As though the enormity of starting your new life as a cadet wasn’t exciting enough, it was also the day you’d first sensed the thoughts of your soulmate.  You’d heard the stories of the few in your hometown who were fortunate enough to have been born within telepathic range of their soulmates, but you’d never expected that you’d be one of the lucky ones.  You’d dreamed of all the things that Starfleet Academy would bring you as you traveled south from your home, but you’d never imagined or really, even considered, that there was a chance of finding your soulmate.

                 It felt mostly like white noise, at first, and you’d thought that maybe your brain was just feeling fuzzy from all the excitement.  You’d pushed it away without really thinking about it, though later that day, actual words came through more than once, and you’d realized what it must mean.  You were so tired that night that you’d fallen asleep before you could really work it out, but for the next few weeks you tried harder to understand the jumble whenever you sensed it.  You remembered one of your friends from back home telling you that the thoughts are generally hard to decipher when the other person isn’t intentionally projecting them, or if they’re not feeling any particularly strong emotion.  You started to wonder if your soulmate was perhaps a bit emotionally unstable, considering the white noise was regularly punctuated with a few very clear sentences suggesting agitation, amusement or frustration.  You learned to how to handle these little outbursts of thought (they were quite startling at first), and start to wonder if your soulmate can hear you, too, though you’ve felt too shy to try and directly think at them.  

  
                  One night you are getting ready for bed after a particularly long day, when a very distinct thought about some kind of textbook bounces into your mind.  You get the idea that your soulmate has misplaced their xenoanatomy textbook the night before their lab, right when they need to look something up, and you chuckle to yourself as you lie down, listening to their frustration and hoping they can find it.  You listen to the white noise of their thoughts as the emotion fades, occasionally catching the odd word here and there, wondering, once again, if they can hear you.  You realize suddenly that you must have projected the thought without meaning to, because the white noise subsides and you receive your first intentional thought from your soulmate barely a second later.

  
                _I can hear you._   Your heart stops for a second before it starts racing, and you stare wide-eyed at the ceiling as you wonder what to think back.

  
                _Oh_ , you think, cringing as the thoughts leave you without your permission.   _Hi. I… I guess I’m your soulmate?_ You can’t hear them laugh, of course, but their thoughts have an amused tone when they reply.

  
                _Oh, good, I thought I was just going crazy._  You laugh nervously to yourself at their thought, chewing on your lower lip.  

   
                _So… did you lose your anatomy textbook?_   You ask them tentatively, not sure what else to say now that you’d made a connection.

  
                _Xenoanatomy and Physiology,_ y _eah. I swear I left the damn thing here in my room, but I can’t find it now.  Bet my roommate swiped it and didn’t tell me._ Their thoughts have grown annoyed and frustrated, and you get the impression that they argue with their roommate a lot.

 _  
Which text is it?  I have the text for Xenoanatomy 1.0 right now, maybe I can help?_ You want to help if you can, though you have no idea if they’re in the same year as you.  You wait, absently playing with your hair, staring at the bottom of the top bunk above you.

   
_I need version 4.0, so no, but thank you – I appreciate the offer._    You ponder the meaning of what they said – version 4.0 meant that they’re in their fourth year of training, the final year.  Older than you.  You feel a little flicker of excitement: you’ve always liked older guys.

  
_I heard that_.  Their thoughts are amused again.   _Who says I’m an older guy?  Maybe I’m a younger, genius woman…_   You flush with embarrassment despite being alone in the room;  you hadn’t meant to project that last thought, and now you feel incredibly flustered.   He senses your embarrassment and thinks:  _It’s okay, I’m just teasing.  I’m a guy. Don’t know if I’m older, though I probably am._

  
                 The two of you chat for a minute or two, mostly just about things happening at Starfleet, before you start fading, your exhausting day taking its toll on you.  

  
_Goodnight, sleep tight,_  he thinks at you before you can even tell him you need to turn in, and you smile sleepily into the darkness.

 _  
Thanks_.   _Good luck in your lab tomorrow._ You barely manage to think the last word before you drift off into dreams and then a deep sleep.

 

 ————————–

   
                 It’s been eight months since you joined Starfleet.  You’re close to finishing your first year and will soon start your second.  You’re feeling a lot more confident in your abilities and more comfortable with the Academy in general.  You still haven’t actually met your soulmate yet; every time either of you suggests a time to meet, something has come up, and your schedules are at complete odds with each other.  When you’re free during the day, he is in class.  When he is free in the evening, you’re on other duties or studying furiously. You’ve lamented not being able to meet him, but you know the day will come. It’s almost time for a brief summer break, and you’ve planned a tentative first date.  You’re nervous as hell but also excited: you can’t believe you’ll actually get to meet your soulmate!

  
               Currently you’re on a shuttle back to the mainland after being aboard one of the starships docked in orbit for a few days, learning the ropes in the science labs.  The passengers seated around you are mostly other cadets, but there are a few civilians on board as well, mostly family members of the crew that are stationed on the orbiting ship that are unable to return to Earth for the time being.   You stare avidly out of your window as the shuttle makes its way back through the atmosphere, marvelling at the feeling of being in space and seeing the earth in all its glory.  You can’t wait until you actually get to go on a real mission, to entirely  _different_  planets, and your excitement at these thoughts bubbles over to the point that your soulmate picks up on them.

  
                _Space is horrible, I wouldn’t recommend it_. His thoughts are amused but you sense a genuine distaste for space – not something new to you, as you’ve come across this attitude from him a few times in the months you’ve been talking.  You chuckle quietly to yourself and watch as the earth creeps nearer.

   
                _Come on, why are you even in Starfleet if you hate space?_ You ask him, your tone teasing.  You can practically hear him sigh, and grin to yourself.

  
                _I’ll tell you later.  Have a final exam in a few._   

  
                _Okay._   _Good luck!_

  
                 You doze a bit as his thoughts go quiet.  The shuttle descends to the height at which airplanes generally fly and continues on towards San Francisco, gliding nearly silently through the air.  You wake a while later as it begins its descent into the city, and you yawn, smiling at a young girl seated across the row from you with her mother, who peers at you for a moment before going back to her book.  They’d been visiting the girl’s father, who was the first officer and unable to take leave as his presence was needed on the ship. The girl, who couldn’t be more than eight, looks disappointed to be getting back to Earth, and you’re not sure if it’s because she misses her father or because she enjoys space as much as you do.

   
                 Your musings are interrupted as the shuttle lurches unnaturally and you look around, somewhat alarmed.  You haven’t been on too many shuttle rides yet, but from your experiences and what you’ve heard from others, they were usually very smooth.  Many of the cadets around you are looking a bit nervous as well, but you trust the pilot to keep everyone safe and assume it must be a fluke – some particularly strong air current, perhaps.

  
                 A few minutes later, as you’re nearing the heart of the city and close enough to see the Academy in the distance, the shuttle lurches again, more violently this time.  There are murmurs of anxiety spreading through the cabin and you look around, your heart quickening.  There are no monitoring devices or any equipment in the passenger area of this shuttle, so you have no idea what, if anything, is wrong.  The single crewman assigned to watch over the passenger area is looking startled himself, and unbuckles his seatbelt.  He heads towards the cockpit just as the shuttle tilts at a steep angle and begins to plummet towards the ground, prompting gasps of alarm and shrieks of fear all around you.  

  
                 The crewman stumbles and pitches forward, crashing into the cockpit door as the shuttle careens violently from side to side as it drops.  You want to help him but the gravitational force of the fall is pinning you heavily to your seat.  Terror washes over you and you can’t help but scream along with many of the others, clutching your seat handles so hard your knuckles are bright white.  You can see the ocean getting larger alarmingly fast and can feel the shuttle wildly fishtailing back and forth.  You can tell the pilot is attempting to direct the shuttle as close to the landing pad as he can, but you really don’t think you’ll make it that far. You can see the sand of the beaches now, and realize you’re only seconds away from crashing.  Your final thoughts of terror and regret are projected loud and clear to your soulmate without you realizing, but before he can even respond, the shuttle has smashed into the ground. 

  
                 The initial impact is so great that you feel like you’ve been hit by a car directly in the chest, and you gasp for breath as the shuttle skids along the uneven ground, snags on some rocks and flips.  People’s bags and other things burst out of the overhead compartments and become projectile missiles, injuring anyone they crash into as the shuttle continues to flip and slide.  Up to this point, you feel like you’ve been thrown into a clothes dryer and tumbled around, but just as you’re thinking that maybe you’ll manage to get through this mostly uninjured, a stray first aid kit sails across the passenger area and strikes you on the side of the head.  A large gash opens up in your skin from the sharp edge of the kit and you are instantly knocked out, going limp in your seat, your restraints holding you in place as blood drips down your face.


	2. Chapter 2

         Leonard had gone back to his business after his last projected thoughts, after his soulmate had wished him luck on his exam.  It was going to be a hard one, he was sure, and he nervously chewed on the end of his stylus as he waited for the instructor’s signal.  The exam appeared on the screen of his tablet as his professor indicated that they could begin and he bent over it, meticulously reading each question and answering carefully, his mind completely focused on his task.

  
           He was so absorbed that at first he didn’t have any idea of what was going on in his head.  He could feel her thoughts getting stronger, but he easily pushed them away at first, so focused was he on his exam.  Soon, however, he could feel them breaking through and he let out a small huff of annoyance, not yet realizing what was happening. He was about to think something at her, perhaps remind her that he was in an exam and needed to concentrate, when he realized something was horribly wrong.  He caught the potent tone of terror in her thoughts and stopped dead, his stylus frozen in his hand, suddenly on high alert.  Her thoughts were a total jumble and at first he couldn’t understand anything except that she was feeling extremely elevated levels of fear and anxiety. He stared straight ahead at the wall of the classroom, waiting pensively, trying to send her thoughts and ask what was wrong, but he couldn’t seem to break through.

  
          Over the next few moments the thoughts kept getting stronger and more fearful, and his own heart was racing with anxiety, his test all but forgotten. Though the emotions were extremely obvious, she didn’t seem to be able to string any actual words together and he sat, waiting fearfully. Finally a few strong, clearer thoughts came through and his eyes widened with alarm.

  
           _Help! Oh God, I’m going to die!  We’re all going to die!  We’re crashing!_

  
          Breathing fast now, Leonard tried desperately to send a thought to her, but her fear was so absolute that it was like a blaring stereo in his mind, and he couldn’t make himself heard over it.  A moment later, however, everything went completely silent in an instant, leaving his head feeling strangely empty.  This scared him more than anything else had so far – She had kept up such a steady stream of terror-filled thoughts for minutes straight that he couldn’t even penetrate it, and now there was absolutely nothing.

  
_Are you okay?! Answer me!  Hello?!_   He thought desperately, but he got nothing but silence in response.  A cold wave of fear washed over him as he wondered if this sudden silence meant the worst – she couldn’t possibly have  _died_ , could she?!  He didn’t want to even consider the possibility – they hadn’t even met yet! He sat frozen for only a moment before leaping to his feet, scaring the hell out of the people on either side of him, who shot him nasty looks for disrupting their concentration.   Far from caring even a little about this, Leonard abandoned his tablet and forced his way down the row, shoving people’s chairs in so he could get by them, oblivious to their protests.  He got to the stairs leading down from his row and leapt down them two at a time, nearly tripping at the bottom but managing to right himself.

  
          “Dr. McCoy, what on earth-” Leonard glanced around long enough to see his professor walking forwards towards him, staring in bewilderment at what he could only imagine was a wild expression on his face, and he was only vaguely aware that the entire class was staring at him as well.

  
           “There’s been a shuttle crash!” Leonard gasped, grabbing his bag from near the doorway of the classroom and flinging it onto his back, thanking his lucky stars that he happened to have a med pack with him today, as he’d had a practical lab earlier in the morning.  “I’ve got to go!”

  
           Without waiting for a response, he dashed out of the room and sprinted down the hall, dodging people left and right and nearly running over a few of the dining room staff as they came around a corner.  He was out of the building in less than two minutes and stared around wildly, trying to sense his soulmate, wondering where the hell the crash had happened.  As he turned towards the bay area, less than a kilometre away, he saw smoke rising into the air from what looked like the beach. Taking a deep breath, he tightened the straps of his backpack and began to run as fast as he could towards the area, hoping desperately that he wasn’t too late.  
  


* * *

  
               You regain consciousness quite soon, but it takes you a while to become aware of your surroundings.  Everything is completely dark aside from a red emergency light pulsing near the door.  There are warning sounds from the emergency systems, cries and moans all around you, to the point that all sound becomes muddled and confusing.   Your head is absolute agony where you’ve been struck by the debris, and you can feel blood slipping over your jaw and down your neck. Your eyesight is very blurry at first, likely from the hard knock to the head, but also because the cabin is beginning to fill with smoke.  Coughing, you fumble clumsily with your seatbelt for a few moments until the cadet beside you manages to get it undone for you. You nearly fall out of your seat, as the shuttle is at steep angle, only managing to stay put by clinging to the arms of the seat.  The other cadet is asking you if you’re okay but you are so fuzzy and disoriented that you’re not even sure if you answer them, but you wave them on, trying to tell them to get themselves out.  As you slide out of your seat, your uniform jacket gets badly snagged on the broken harness of the seat next yours.  You clumsily try to free it, but after a few moments you realize it’s a lost cause. Instead, you unzip your jacket and slip out of it, standing unsteadily beside the seats in your Starfleet-issued t-shirt, trying to orient yourself.

  
             After a minute or two the adrenaline that buzzes through your body seems to clear your mind a bit. You look around as your eyes start to adjust to the darkness and you begin to realize the horrible enormity of the situation.  There are people everywhere; some unconscious in their seats, others bleeding, still others looking unhurt but terrified.  Everyone is trying to get themselves out of their seatbelts, and finally someone manages to open the side door.  A gust of fresh air sweeps into the cabin and you inhale gratefully, then gasp as the far side of the cabin suddenly goes up in flames, fed by the fresh wave of oxygen rushing in.  You spring into action despite your injury and begin helping people unbuckle themselves, pushing them towards the next cadet that is helping, creating a kind of assembly line of escaping people.  You’re feeling very dizzy from your head injury and are having a hard time continuing to stand, but you do your best to push through it, knowing that there isn’t much time to get everyone out. By the time everyone from the back is cleared, the ones nearest the fire, the heat has gotten much worse.  There is immense pressure to free and evacuate the people closer to the front as soon as humanly possible, before the flames spread to the fuel cells and you all die in a fiery explosion.

  
             There are only a few people left now, and you’re just thinking you should get the hell out of here yourself when you hear a high-pitched wail.  You look around wildly and realize that the young girl, who had clearly been released from her seat belt by someone, was now stuck between a couple of seats, wedged in because of her small size and the steep angle of the floor.  You can see her struggling to pull herself out, but she’s weakening as she coughs from all of the smoke flooding the cabin.  You make your way over to her with some difficulty, gripping anything within reach for balance and brace yourself on the seats, stretching your arm forwards and holding out your hand to her.

  
             “Grab hold!  I’ll get you out of here!” you call hoarsely to her, and she scrambles to obey, grabbing your hand with hers, tear tracks streaking her sooty cheeks.  Once you’ve pulled her free of the seats, you swing her around and get her positioned on your back, her arms around your shoulders and her legs around your waist.  “Hold on tight!” you call to her, and you feel her nod, then her small arms tighten around your shoulders.  Carefully you make your way out of the burning shuttle, the task made so much more difficult by your injury and the fact that you’re both coughing, the girl clinging to your back for dear life.  Her arms slip from your shoulders and she nearly throttles you as she clings to your neck instead, but you adjust as well as you can and reach the doorway.  You stumble as you jump down and nearly bring both of you crashing to the ground, but manage to stay upright thanks only to the help of a crewman waiting to catch you.   You weave around others as they start hurrying away from the shuttle, unsure of who anyone is, feeling faint and nauseated.  Everything seems completely washed out and too glaringly bright in the dazzling sunlight, searing your brain as you attempt to find the girl’s mother.    Suddenly a wailing woman races over to you, her face contorted with terror and dawning relief as she realizes you have her child.

  
             “My baby! You’ve got her!  You saved my baby!” the woman exclaims, sobbing as she reaches for the girl clinging to your back.  You feel the girl shift her weight, digging her heels into your sides and flinging herself into her mother’s arms, using you a springboard and consequently shoving you backwards.  You nearly topple over again, just barely righting yourself as the woman catches her daughter and hugs the girl tightly.    “Thank you, I can’t ever repay you,” she begins tearfully, but you shake your head emphatically, gesturing a little wildly.

  
             “You need to get out of here, it’s only a matter of time before the fire reaches the fuel cells,” you explain to the woman, your words slurring as you speak as urgently as you can.  You think you’re getting the message across well enough, though, because the woman begins to look scared again.  “Go!  Get her as far away as possible!”   The woman nods, squeezes your shoulder and thanks you again, before rushing off, clutching her daughter as tightly to her chest as she can while she runs in the opposite direction.

  
             You fight a powerful wave of dizziness and nausea that washes over you and turn back to the shuttle, looking up at the smoke streaming out of the cabin.  There is more and more of it by the second and you cough, your exposure to it in the cabin still bothering your lungs.  You’re pretty sure there were still people in there when you’d gotten the girl out, but you’re not sure if they’ve escaped by now.  You can see one or two people right beside the shuttle entrance, but the smoke is getting so thick that you can’t tell if they’re waiting for someone else or if they themselves are escaping.  You’re unsure as to whether the people are crewmen, civilians or fellow cadets, but it really doesn’t matter.  All of your senses are screaming at you to get as far away as you can as quickly as humanly possible, but your conscience will not allow you to turn your back.  So you hurry forward as fast as you can, trying to ignore the urge to throw up from the agony in your head that’s become nearly blinding.  

  
             You’re getting closer to the shuttle when one of the men, the crewman who helped you when you’d jumped out with the girl, sees you approaching. His face is a mask of terror and he screams at you to run as he begins to race in your direction himself.  You suddenly hear the hissing sound that indicates one of the fuel cells has been punctured.  As the fire flickers and the smoke pours from the doorway, you know that the fuel will ignite any second.  You screech to a stop and hesitate for a fraction of a second, but you know instinctively that it’s too late for the crewman and the cadet you can now see behind him, as well as anyone who may still be left inside.  With horrible regret, you turn your back and begin to sprint, but you only manage two strides before the fuel cell explodes.  

  
             The explosion is deafening and because you aren’t very far away when it happens, you feel the heat sear your back as you lose your footing. You scream in pain and terror as you’re thrown through the air like a ragdoll and hit the ground on your front, your chest smashing agonizingly against the ground.  You scream at a piercing pain in your thigh as you hit the ground, but there is shrapnel and other debris flying violently through the air, distracting you and preventing you from figuring out the source of the pain. Instinctively you curl up and cover your head with your arms, feeling nothing but terror and pain coursing through you as shrapnel and debris hits the ground all around you.  You can feel ash and dust start to coat you, smaller debris pelting your body.   You feel a sharp sting along your forearm but the feeling fades quickly as you continue to shield yourself, trembling with fear.

  
             After a few moments you realize that the rain of shrapnel and debris has stopped, and you cautiously let go of your head, but do not uncurl.   Noises in the background are strangely muffled and simultaneously overwhelmingly loud. You cry out as the sirens start screaming nearby, the sharp wails feeling like they’re physically piercing your brain.  Your leg is so painful that your whole body is trembling with adrenaline, and it takes you several long moments to get the courage to uncurl yourself from your protective position and look at the damage.  You let out a horrified, shaking breath as you see a long, jagged piece of metal sticking out of the fleshiest part of your thigh, blood welling quickly around it and soaking into the leg of your pants, staining your red cadet uniform pants a darker crimson.  You stare at it uncomprehendingly for several long moments, numb with shock as the blood stain gets larger.

  
              _Answer me, dammit!_  You soulmate’s frantic thoughts finally manage to break through your panic and fear, and you feel a rush of comfort wash over you at the familiar presence.

  
              _I’m here_ , you think at him, and wonder if your thoughts are trembling like you know your voice would be if you were to speak.   You can feel your soulmate’s wave of relief as he realizes you’re alive, wordless though the feeling is.

  
              _Thank god. Are you hurt? I saw the explosion… I’m running towards the crash now but it’ll take me a bit longer to get there._ His thoughts come fast and seem muddled as your brain is slow to comprehend, and you only manage to fully understand his asking if you’re hurt.

  
_There’s metal in my leg.  It-it’s bleeding a lot, what do I do? Do I take it out?_ Normally you would know what to do, having been trained in advanced emergency aid, but you can’t really think through the haze of the pain and the head injury, so you’re relying on him to think for you.

  
              _NO!_ His somewhat panicked thought comes through, loud and clear, and you wince at the force of it.   _Do NOT remove the metal, I’ll see what I can do when I get there.  Is there anything else? Do you have other injuries?_ You try to focus on what he says, but all you can do is stare at the jagged metal sticking out of your leg, and at the steadily growing blood stain at the base of it.

  
              _It’s… it’s really big.  A-are you sure I shouldn’t pull it out?_ Your thoughts keep returning to the shrapnel because it’s all you can see, and therefore all you can think about.  You’re frozen in place, staring at it in shock and horror, and all your instincts are screaming at you to remove the intrusive object.   It doesn’t make sense to you to leave it in there, but you vaguely understand that your soulmate likely has a good reason for not removing it. So you continue to stare at it, reaching out with your hand and touching the blood, wondering if you should press on the edges of the wound in an attempt to stop the flow.

  
              _Please, don’t remove it!_ His thoughts contain hints of pleading now.   _And don’t touch the wound!  Try not to move the metal at all, if you can._

_  
__But—_ You try to protest, but your thoughts are so weak now that he cuts you off easily.

  
              _Sweetheart, please, trust me.  You need to tell me what else is happening.  Are you hurt anywhere else?_ His thoughts are urgent and you try to focus on them, but you’re starting to feel completely overwhelmed.  The sirens are coming closer and their flashing lights combined with the bright sunlight blind you, sending searing shocks of pain through your head.  You move a bit as you try to turn away, and cry out again as the metal shifts, sending pulses of agony through your thigh and radiating down your leg.  

  
              _It hurts so much._ It’s all you can think as pain flows through your body from all directions.  You feel like you’re going to throw up or faint, or perhaps both, if it continues any longer.

  
              _I know, darling, I know.  But I need you to try and focus.  Can you try for me? Please?  Look at your chest, arms and legs… are you injured anywhere else?_   Your soulmate’s thoughts are full of concern and urgency and you focus as hard as you can on them.  Finally understanding what he wants from you, you slowly look at your other leg and see nothing but torn cloth.  So you look down at your chest, and see nothing aside from some tears in your shirt, with small cuts beneath the tears.  Nothing major.   You look down at your left hand and gasp in horror – it’s completely coated with blood.

  
              _M-my hand, it’s all covered in blood._   Your thoughts convey your sense of shock as you stare at your hand, wondering where all the blood had come from.  You’d touched your leg wound, yes, but there was not nearly enough blood to wetly coat your hand like this.

  
              _It’s okay, you’ll be okay.  Can you try to find where the wound is?_ His thoughts are encouraging, and, though you’re trembling violently now, you carefully turn your hand over, looking at your wrist and arm.  You suddenly notice a long, deep laceration in the back of your forearm, cutting through the muscle there.  Blood is pouring from the wound and slipping down your arm, dripping from your fingertips as you stare at it in horror.

  
              _Really big cut on the back of my arm.  I- I’m bleeding an awful lot…_   If spoken, the words would have been barely audible.  You’re reeling from the fear of seeing your own blood pouring out of you, and you’re momentarily paralyzed again, just like you had been when you spotted the metal in your leg.

  
              _Okay, that’s okay, you can fix that.  Do you have anything you can wrap it with?_ After a moment of shaking your head, you remember that he isn’t there and can’t see your motions, so you send him a thought to the negative.   _Alright, then you’re going to have to put your other hand on the cut and press hard, okay?  You need to keep pressure there, it’ll slow the bleeding._

_  
__O-okay._ You reach around the side of your arm with your other hand and press as hard as you can against the wound, whimpering at the stinging pain and the feeling of the hot blood on your palm.   _I’m holding it._

  
              _Good girl, you’re doing great.  I’m almost there.  Just keep pressure for me, okay?_ You nod weakly, forgetting again that he can’t see you, though it doesn’t seem to deter him this time.   _Where are you?  Are you near the crowd?  Is anyone helping you?_

_  
_You look around and realize that you’re actually quite alone, shielded from the main group of casualties by some large pieces of debris. By this point though, you’re feeling so sick and in so much pain that you can barely stay sitting upright. You’re swaying on the spot as you attempt to keep pressure on your arm, but your strength is very quickly waning.

  
              _No, I’m behind a piece of one of the wings._ Your thoughts are getting weaker by the second as you feel dizzier and more pained, and your vision, already blurred, is starting to go spotty as the world seems to spin around you.   _I think n-near the sou–_ The dizziness overwhelms you and a moment later, your eyes roll back into your head as your vision goes black.  You collapse back to the ground as you go limp, releasing your arm in the process.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review/leave a comment if you enjoyed the fic! I'd love to hear from you! <3


	3. Chapter 3

_South? Where, behind the shuttle?  Or closer to the water?_ Leonard sends a few more questioning thoughts as he runs, but he quickly realizes that his soulmate has completely stopped responding.  He slows to a walk for a moment, breathing hard, straining to catch any thoughts, but he can’t sense anything at all.  He’s approaching the crash site now and hurries forward at about the same time as the first responders, most of whom beeline for a crowd of people near the beach.   Remembering what she had told him, with the fear of her silence making his heart clench, he jogs around behind the shuttle, away from the crowd to the south.  There are many large pieces of the destroyed shuttle scattered around the area, smoking and smoldering, and it takes him a few minutes of searching before he sees a figure, prone on the ground, a short distance away.

               He runs over and stares down at the young woman, realizing almost immediately that she must be his soulmate, if only because the injuries match what she’d been able to tell him.  The fact that she is wearing a ripped and torn cadet uniform (minus the jacket) further confirms it.   He drops to his knees beside her and opens his pack, his expert eyes scanning her body for obvious injuries.  There was the long, jagged piece of shrapnel sticking out of her leg, and the large, deep cut on the back of her forearm, her skin coated with blood from it.  What she hadn’t told him, though, was that she clearly had a head injury.  There was a large gash on the side of her face that had bled down her neck and soaked into her shirt, and judging from how large it was and the angle that the projectile had hit, he was guessing she’d been knocked out at some point and probably had a concussion.  There are also multiple smaller cuts and bruises over her face, arms and chest, and she’s covered with a grimy mixture of soot from the smoke, ash and dust from the explosion that is still drifting through the air.

               He watches her chest rise and fall for about ten seconds, until he’s sure she’s breathing properly, then takes her wrist, settling his fingers over the pulse point, ignoring the blood on her skin.  He can feel her pulse easily but it’s very fast and weak, and he wonders worriedly about the cause for her unconsciousness – whether it was the head injury, fluid loss from the arm wound, or some internal bleeding that he’d not yet detected.

               Quickly, he pulls several large gauze pads from his pack, stacks them into a large wad and applies pressure to the arm wound, looking around as he does so, trying to see if there’s an ambulance nearby.   His soulmate desperately needs to get to the medical centre at the Academy, but he can see no one, and he is not going to leave her side anytime soon.    After a few minutes, the bleeding is slowing, so he adds a few more layers to the wad and secures them in place by wrapping it with a roll of gauze and tying it off directly over the wound.  

               “Hey!  I need some help over here!” he yells in the direction of the medics, but in all of the commotion, what with more sirens in the distance, the crackling of the fire and shouting of people all around, no one seems to hear him.  He tries a few more times as he works, but still, no one comes.  He swears to himself and looks down at her, very reluctant to move away from her, even just a few meters away.  

               There isn’t a lot he can do with her leg out here on the ground, so he begins to brace the metal by surrounding it with whole rolls of gauze on every side, trying to stabilize it.  Once he gets several inches built up around it, he secures the rolls in place with another long roll of stretchy gauze, doing his best to keep the shrapnel from moving.  This will allow her to be transported without the object tearing up the inside of her leg and potentially severing an artery.  Still no one has come to help and so he stands, looking around.   As he’s trying to figure out what he can do without leaving her side, it occurs to him that some of the medics are likely to be the people he works with regularly in the Academy medical clinic.  Retrieving his comm from his pocket, he quickly tries to contact one of the most competent medics that he can think of.  Thanking his lucky stars, the medic answers her comm and Leonard starts talking fast.

               “It’s Dr. McCoy.  Are you at the site of the shuttle accident?”

               “Yes sir, we’re just arriving now, I’m in the second wave of ambulances.”

               “Perfect.  Can you and another come around behind the shuttle?  I’ve got a casualty in the debris.  She’s unconscious with a potential head injury, shrapnel puncture wound in the right quadricep and deep laceration to the forearm.  Her vitals are stable but quickly deteriorating. I’ve done what I can here but she needs to get to the medical centre.”

               “Of course.  We’ll be right there with a stretcher.”

               Leonard snaps his comm shut and tosses it back into his pocket, kneeling down beside his soulmate’s limp form, his stomach twisting with concern and worry.   He’s almost certain she’ll be just fine with the proper care, but the sense of urgency is doing a number on his nerves.

               A minute later, the medic he’d called appears around the edge of the destroyed shuttle and spots him.  She hurries towards Leonard with her partner, their hover-stretcher following noiselessly in their wake.

               “Thank god,” he says, waving her over.  

               “I trust you’ve done everything I would, Doctor?” the medic asks.

               “Of course,” he replies, watching as she lowers the hover bed so that it’s directly beside his soulmate.

              “Good. Let’s get her to Emerg then,” she says.  Leonard helps her get his soulmate onto the stretcher, then follows the medics as they hurry back to their ambulance.   He gets into the back without either medic saying a thing, and before he knows it, they’re off and flying towards the Academy, staying fairly low to the ground.   He reaches for his soulmate’s hand, realizing belatedly that he doesn’t even know her name.  All the things they’ve chatted about, and he never thought to ask her to actually tell him her name.  She looks so small and helpless lying there, covered in blood and soot, and it makes his heart hurt that this had to be their first meeting.   She moans softly as his hands wrap around one of hers, shifting slightly, but she doesn’t wake.  He stays with her the whole way, right up to the door of the emergency surgery theatre, where he darts off into another room and begins to scrub up.  He changes into scrubs and puts on the gown and all other sanitary guards, washing his hands up to the elbows before gloves are pulled onto his hands by a nearby nurse.  

              Leonard walks into the operating theatre and sees that they’ve already got her under anaesthesia, the breathing tube inserted and attached to the ventilator.  He doesn’t even have a chance to say anything before the surgeon looks up, spots him standing there and shakes her head.

“You’re not supposed to be in here, McCoy, it’s not your shift.”  

“I don’t care, I want to help,” he says, reaching for a PADD that has his soulmate’s information on it.  

              “No.”  The surgeon walks over to him and motions for a nurse to take the device from him, frowning.  “We have a full team, McCoy, there’s no need for you to be here.”  Her frown deepens as the nurse plucked the PADD from his grip, and eyes him with concern and skepticism.  “You just contaminated your gloves with the PADD, McCoy.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen you compromise the sterile field before.”

              “Please,” he begs, ignoring her last words in his desperation, “I know I can help.  I found her on the field, I know exactly what happened, I-”

              “How were you even on location?” the surgeon asks, staring at him suspiciously.   “It was my impression that all of the fourth year medical cadets had finals today.”

              “Look, I don’t have time to explain.  Just let me be part of this,” he says forcefully, his tone rough and unintentionally aggressive.  Her eyebrow raises as she looks at him, and he realizes too late that he’s just blown any chance of him participating in his soulmate’s care.

              “You are out of line, Cadet McCoy.  You need to leave this operating theatre right now and return to your classes or I will call security.  That is an order!”  Leonard hesitates long enough that the surgeon stares at him in amazement, having never once seen the younger doctor fail to obey a direct order before.  “What the hell has gotten into you, McCoy?”

              “She – she’s my soulmate,” he manages to say, feeling physically sick at the thought of both his soulmate lying unconscious on the operating table, and at the fact that he was actively disobeying a direct order.  “I found her on the field because she was able to guide me to her when she was conscious.  I can’t just leave her.”  His words are laced with desperation now, his eyes pleading over his surgical mask.  There is silence in the room, all of the nurses looking on nervously, one of them hovering near the comm in the corner, ready to call security.  After an agonizingly long moment in which she carefully scrutinizes Leonard’s face, the surgeon sighs as her expression softens a little.

              “Against my better judgement, I will allow you to remain in the theatre, but you are  _not_  participating in the surgery.  That is my only offer.  Take it or leave it,” she tells him, her tone firm and unyielding, holding his gaze.  He nods quickly, wishing that he could help, but knowing that it’s better than nothing. Many other surgeons would have had him dragged from the theatre for his insubordination.

              “Thank you,” he tells her, his hushed tone one of gratitude.  She nods curtly as she goes back to her preparations for the surgery, and Leonard moves so he’s out of the way of the nurses and holds his soulmate’s uninjured hand, tucked in a chair against the side of the biobed.  He doesn’t know why she’s let him stay, but he stays quiet, grateful to still be there at all after his little outburst, his heart racing uncomfortably fast.

              Time passes slowly as Leonard watches the surgeon and nurses work. He’s itching to take part in the care, but he knows that this team is one of the best in the centre, so at least his soulmate is in good hands.  He holds her hand throughout, stroking it and thinking reassuring thoughts at her, though her mind remains silent and blank.  He’s relieved when the surgeon announces that the shrapnel in her leg has only _just_  nicked the femoral artery and that it will be fairly easy to repair.  He watches intently as she removes the shrapnel and, after cleaning the blood out of the wound, carefully micro-sutures the small tear in the artery. She then puts in subcutaneous sutures before closing the skin along the edges of the wound.   Leonard has to admire her skill; her hands are even steadier than his and every stitch is absolutely perfect.

              “Are you wondering why I let you stay, Leonard?” she asks him after a lengthy silence, as she removes the bandaging he’d applied and examines his soulmate’s forearm.  She begins to suture the wound there, glancing at him after a moment.  He nods, vaguely noting that her tone is much softer than before, and she smiles behind her mask, her eyes crinkling slightly.   “A few years ago, when I came to this campus from across the country, I too found my soulmate.”  She glances at him to see that he’s still listening raptly, and so, she continues. “She was amazing.  We each figured out the identity of the other pretty quickly and had an amazing few months together.  Then she got hurt.  Very hurt.” She pauses, and Leonard can almost feel the pain radiating from her at the memory.  “I had a moment very like you just did, insisting that I help with her surgeries.  I was banished from the operating room for being emotionally compromised and endured the worst hours of my life, waiting.”   Leonard nods, his eyes full of understanding.

              “Is she okay now?” he asks, a bit tentatively.  He’s hoping her story doesn’t have a tragic ending, and he feels relieved when he sees her smile again.

              “Oh yes,” she replies, chuckling.  “She’s healthier than me, I think.  But the point is, when you told me she was your soulmate… I remembered how desperate I was, how painful those hours were, and I didn’t want you to suffer like I did.” Leonard doesn’t respond for a moment, thinking about how distraught he would be right at this moment if he wasn’t in the theatre, able to see everything.  He knows he would be pacing anxiously back and forth, feeling sick with worry and fear.

              “Thank you,” he says again, squeezing his soulmate’s hand for his own reassurance.  “I’m very glad your soulmate came through.”  The surgeon smiles and continues on with her stitching in amiable silence, and before he knows it, the surgery is over.    The surgeon runs a tricorder over his soulmate’s head and neck area, scanning for any broken bones and swelling or bruising of the brain to indicate if she has a concussion, and if so, how severe.  She also runs it down over her chest and legs, checking for any missed fractures.

              “Looks like there’s some swelling to the brain, but considering how long she was out beforehand and the nature of her injuries, it’s much better than I was expecting.  A few cracked ribs, but those should mend well enough on their own.  We’ll move her to ICU for now and see how she does.”

              The nurses lead Leonard and the biobed bearing his soulmate into a recovery room, just off of the operating theatre.  Once his soulmate starts breathing on her own after the anaesthesia wears off, they remove her breathing tube and do a full round of vital checks, changing up the nearly empty IV bag for a new one.   After an hour or so of closely monitoring her vitals, which the surgeon has graciously allowed Leonard to do, his soulmate is moved to a room in the ICU.  He stands back as a different doctor hooks her up to a saline drip and places a cannula in her nose to keep her oxygen saturation up. The doctor tests her reactions to stimuli to make sure she’s come out of the anaesthesia properly.  She’s able to localize and withdraw from any painful stimuli, and her pupils are reacting normally to light, despite her unconscious state.  

              “She’s come out of the anaesthesia, but she’ll probably be asleep for a while, considering her injuries,” the doctor tells Leonard, as he enters some information into his PADD.  “You can stay with her as long as you like, McCoy.  I’ll let your supervisor know why you haven’t shown up for your evening shift.”

              Leonard nods his wordless thanks and sits down beside his soulmate, taking her hand once again.  He sits still for several long moments, looking down at her, wishing there was something more that he could do.  He realizes that although they’d mopped up a bit of the blood and soot around her major wounds, she’s still pretty filthy, covered with blood, soot and dirt. Leonard stands and retrieves a small basin from under the sink and a soft cloth from a nearby cupboard, able to find everything quickly thanks to his knowledge of the medical centre.  He fills the basin with warm water and brings it to her bedside, placing it on the nightstand beside the bed.  The warm water runs over his hands as he wrings out the cloth, and he begins to carefully wipe away the blood from her arm. The water in the bowl quickly turns an orange-brown as he meticulously and gently removes all of the blood and dirt from either of her arms.  

              He changes the water and tosses the cloth into a hamper, retrieving a new cloth to use for her face.  He begins to very gently wipe away the soot over her forehead, the soft cloth slipping along her skin.  As Leonard carefully clears her skin of blood and dirt, her features are exposed to him and he can see her face clearly for the first time.  She looks vaguely familiar, and he’s sure that he’s seen her before in passing, perhaps in the cafeteria or one of the study rooms.  He sighs as he carefully cleans around the wound on the side of her face, clearing up all the dried blood and dirt there, wishing he’d known before now who she was.

              One of the passes of the cloth over her cheek sends a trickle of water down her jawline and down her neck, as he hadn’t wrung the cloth out well enough.  He hurries to catch the trail of water before it soaks into her clothes, when she suddenly moans, her head moving slightly.  He freezes on the spot, his hand still resting gently on her neck through the cloth, watching her face as she moans softly again.

              “Hey,” he says gently, calling to her.  “Wake up, darlin’.”   She turns her head slightly, her lips parting like she’s about to speak, but nothing comes of it and she lies still.  He sighs, disappointed, but a moment later, before he can even resume the washing of her skin, she moans again and her eyes begin to slowly flutter open as she creeps back into consciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

             Everything seems like a horrible dream.  You feel like you’re treading through the thickest mud, barely able to move forward. Your mind is full of cobwebs, making everything muffled and dull.  You moan as aches and pains come back to you in full force, sending waves of agony through your body.  Your chest in particular is throbbing, through you can feel spikes of pain coming from other areas, like your injured arm and leg.

              You slowly open your eyes, blinking sluggishly, your eyelids feeling very heavy and weighed down by your extreme fatigue.  Everything looks too bright and blurred, and you blink a few more times, trying to clear your vision.  It helps a little, but nothing really comes into proper focus, leaving you feeling dizzy and disoriented.  You realize that someone is touching you, and you can feel something warm and wet against your neck.  You feel it move away from you and eventually realize someone had a washcloth on your skin. Why?  You can’t think clearly enough to figure out an answer.  You can’t remember what’s going on, and your heartrate spikes as fear and confusion start to take over your brain.

              You can hear someone’s voice, a man’s voice, but it seems very muffled and far away, as though you’re hearing him from underwater.  The speaker appears in your line of vision and you try to squint up at him, but his features are fuzzy and your hearing isn’t getting any better. You shift as you feel him put a hand on your arm, your heart rate rising even faster as fear floods through you. Who is this person?! Your vision is very slowly getting clearer, but even as the man’s features come into better focus, you’re still clueless as to his identity.  

              He seems to be saying a few words over and over, probably trying to get through to you, but you shake your head, not understanding anything he’s saying.  You look around frantically, your brain finally catching up with you enough that you understand that you must be in a hospital room.  The man standing over you and talking to you must be a doctor, then – but why is he wearing red?  Nothing makes sense.  You strain against his gentle hold on your arms, letting out a noise of distress, but you’re too groggy and in too much pain to go anywhere.

              “I c-can’t h-hear you,” you moan after continued efforts on the man’s part to talk to you. You still feel like your head is underwater, like there’s water pressing in on your ears, only muffled, incomprehensible sounds getting through to you.

_God, I’m an idiot.  Of course you can’t hear after the explosion, you were so close to it_.

              The thought bursts into your head so unexpectedly that you physically start, but you stop squirming and moaning as your brain interprets the thought, a wave of relief washing over you at the familiarity of the thoughts of your soulmate, though his words don’t really sink in.

               _You’re there?_ You send out the thought desperately, hoping he can reassure you.

               _I’m right here, sweetie.  You’re okay_.

               _I’m scared. I think I’m in the hospital, but I can’t hear anything and there’s someone talking to me, but I don’t know who they are and I don’t know what happened…_   Your thoughts trail off as you choke, tears filling your eyes in your fear and confusion.

               _Darling, that’s me sitting beside you.  I’m the one who was talking to you, I’m the one touching your arms right now.  You’re safe, I promise, and I’m right here with you._

              Your heart seems to stop as you try to process what he’s said. The man in front of you, fuzzy around the edges but getting clearer by the second, is looking down at you in concern, though there’s a reassuring half-smile on his face.  You stare at him uncomprehendingly for many long moments, trying to work out the thoughts.  He’s your soulmate?  Like,  _actually_  your soulmate?  Your mind reels as you look at his face, trying to place him, but you’re distracted by your pain.   Your face scrunches up in reaction to a particularly painful jolt from your ribs as you cough a little, hot agony exploding through your chest.  You let out a pained whimper without realizing, and he’s there, he’s reaching out and stroking your hair, and his thoughts kick in again without hesitation.

               _Try to breathe, sweetheart, you’re doing so well.  I’ll get you some pain meds, just give me a moment.  Try not to move too much._    The tone of his thoughts is very gentle and reassuring, and you can hear the muffled sound of him talking into a communicator.  You assume he has just summoned a doctor about the pain medicine and you clench your jaw, trying to do what he said, just trying to breathe and not move.  Someone else appears, another man you don’t recognize, though this one is dressed in a medical uniform and looks stern.  It seems like your soulmate is arguing with him;  the tone of his words seems angry, even though all you can hear is indistinct mumbling.    

              Their argument seems to end and the stranger leaves the room. Your soulmate turns back to you and you think you can see him smile again, but you clench your eyes shut a moment later as another wave of pain rolls through you.  

               _It’ll feel much better in just a few seconds, hold on just a sec._   There’s a pause in his thoughts, and open your eyes just enough to see that he’s doing something at the side of your bed.   _There, I’ve injected some triptocederine into your drip.  It will work really fast, I promise. The pain will go away real soon._

              Your soulmate sits back down on the edge of your bed and takes your hand.  Whatever it was he gave you (you’ve already forgotten the name of the drug) was indeed already starting to work.  A strangely warm feeling seems to be flowing through you, and your eyelids feel like they’re being pulled down without your permission again.  You struggle to focus, but you’re starting to feel like you’re floating again.  After a moment or two, the pain begins to lessen and you let out a soft noise of relief, your body relaxing as the agony fades to a dull roar before disappearing almost completely.

              As your body relaxes, so does your mind.  His hands around yours start to bring you a feeling of comfort, and you curl your fingers slightly, weakly squeezing his hand.  He responds immediately, gently squeezing back and stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.

               _How are you feeling?  Has the pain gone?_  
  


_Yes.  I feel… floaty._ You hear him make a noise, and even through your indistinct hearing, you can tell it was a chuckle.

               _Yeah, triptocedrine will make you feel like that.  It’s okay, it means it’s working._

               _I.. want to ask you so many things… but… I can’t focus…_ You frown as you try to force yourself to concentrate, but your brain just doesn’t seem to want to cooperate.

               _It’s alright, sweetheart.  We’ll have plenty of time to talk later.  You need rest, now._   You try to nod, to answer him, but you’re already halfway to unconsciousness by this point.  Within seconds, your body relaxes completely and your head lolls slightly to the side as you slip into sleep, your soulmate still stroking the back of your hand as everything fades away.

 

\----------------------

 

              The first things you hear as you slowly return to consciousness are a ringing in your ears, birds chirping, and the faint beeping of medical equipment.  The sounds don’t make sense together in your brain at first, so you try to focus on the birds chirping, as the sound makes you feel relaxed and calm.  After a few moments, you begin to slowly open your eyes, feeling like you’re peeling back layers of wallpaper that resist you as you tug. You blink sluggishly, many times, as your head turns slowly - first in one direction and then the other - taking in the room in which you are lying. It’s mostly the stark white that you’ve come to associate with hospitals in general, with white and stainless steel cabinets on one side of the room, monitoring equipment and a door (presumably to a bathroom) on the other.  You can tell there is a window or two behind you, judging by how the light is shining into the room, and the sound of birds.

              You look down towards your lap and that’s when you see him clearly for the first time.  Your vision has thankfully returned to normal, and you’re able to see his face properly.  He’s hunched over in a chair at your bedside, an arm on your bed and his head propped on top of it, fast asleep beside your knee.  His free hand rests limply beside yours, and you can tell he’d been holding it before he’d fallen asleep.  There are dark bags under his eyes and while he looks peaceful now, in sleep, you have a hunch he’d felt anything but while you’d been out of it.  He’s wearing a black Starfleet-issue t-shirt, much like the one you’d been wearing before they put you in a gown, and the red uniform cadet pants, his red jacket hanging on the back of the chair.

He is very handsome, you can see, even in his awkward position at your bedside.  After a few moments of studying his features, you slowly reach out with your uninjured hand and experimentally touch his hair.  You stroke your fingers through it, feeling fondness and affection welling inside you the longer you touch him.  He’s clearly stayed with you the whole time you’ve been unconscious, and he’s been your emotional rock for months, talking you down when you were anxious and celebrating your successes with you.  Previously you had no idea what he looked like, and though this was not admittedly how you’d pictured him, you think he’s absolutely perfect.

              He stirs after a moment of you gently stroking his hair, letting out a small groan and sitting up slowly and gingerly, clearly stiff and sore. He rubs his eyes and runs a hand through his already messy hair, looking down at you just as he’s about to yawn. He quickly stifles it as he realizes you’re looking at him, and his tired face lights up in relief and happiness as it sinks in that you’re no longer unconscious.

              “Hey, you’re awake,” he says, his voice a bit hoarse with sleep but full of warmth and concern, taking your hand in both of his. “How are you feeling?”  You gaze, almost mesmerized at him as the sound of his voice fills your ears, and you know you’ll never hear his thoughts without hearing his voice in your mind ever again.

              “I can hear you now,” you say with a weak half-smile, your voice scratchy and quiet from lack of use and the smoke inhalation.  You sound as bedraggled and tired as you feel. “There’s lots of ringing and it’s a bit muffled, but I can hear.”

              “That’s wonderful,” he says, squeezing your hand.  “How are you feeling otherwise?”

              “Like I’ve been hit by a shuttle,” you say with a soft groan, shifting slightly in bed and wincing as you feel sharp pricks of pain all over your body.

              “Well, it’s near enough to the truth,” he says, and his voice has become grim.  He’s been more worried about you than he’ll ever admit, but you know his mind well enough to know what he thinks he’s hiding.   He helps you sit up and offers you a glass of ice water with a straw. You take a couple of sips and sigh in relief; your throat had been so dry that even the small sips were like much-needed rainfall in the desert.  He makes sure you’re comfortable in a reclined position and gently props your head up on a pillow so you’re relaxed but can still talk to him.    

“I know it might be hard, but… can you tell me what happened?  I don’t know the whole story yet, I’ve been-” he hesitates, and you know, instinctively, that he’s been with you for every moment since it happened, so he hasn’t even talked to anyone else yet.  “I want to hear what happened to you,” he says instead, squeezing your hand again.   You nod wearily; you don’t really want to talk about it, but you know you’ll be telling him at some point, so you may as well get it over with now.

              You take as deep of a breath as you can with your broken ribs and slowly explain everything you can remember, from the crash itself and getting knocked out, to escaping from the burning shuttle, to being flung by the explosion.   He listens carefully without interruption, stroking the back of your hand when you start to get anxious from the memories.  He doesn’t push you to continue, but you can feel the words tumbling out of you and so you continue on, getting it all out.

              “Wow,” he says, his voice quiet once you’re finished.  You look at him, and you can see a pained expression in his eyes as he continues to stroke the back of your hand.  “I’m so glad you got out in time,” he tells you, and his voice is hushed and sombre.  “I don’t know what I would have done if you’d… well…” He trails off and gives a brave attempt at a smile.  “We didn’t even know each other’s names yet!  It would have been cosmically unfair.”  He manages to smile at you, and you know he’s trying to lighten the mood, but you can see the sadness and residual fear in his eyes that told you he’d truly been scared that you were going to die.  You try to think of something to say to reassure him, but your brain is both still foggy from the injuries and medicine, and overrun with emotion from recounting your story.   Something else occurs to you as you think over the last thing he said, and you look at him, a hint of playfulness in your eyes.

              “Wait, I just realized… I still  _don’t_  know your name.  I’m guessing you know mine now, thanks to medical records, but… I’m still in the dark.”  You eye him, and he smiles for real as he realizes that you’re right.

              “You’re completely correct.  How rude of me.  I’m Leonard. Leonard McCoy.  It’s a pleasure to meet you for real, Y/N.”  He stands and reaches for your good hand, and you let out a soft giggle as you formally shake hands.   He smiles again, seemingly pleased that he made you laugh, and sits back down.  There’s amiable silence for a moment or two before he speaks again.

“One of the paramedics told me that they saw you carrying a kid on your back, before you ran  _back_ _towards the shuttle_  before it exploded… please tell me you didn’t actually do that?”  He looks both exasperated and amused as he speaks and you realize that in everything that had happened, you’d momentarily forgotten about the girl you’d saved.

              “Oh!  Yeah, I did get a kid out with me,” you say, trying not to laugh as he looks shocked, proud and still exasperated all at once.  “She’s the daughter of Commander Morgan, I’m almost certain… but I heard her scream and found her stuck in between some of the seats, so I got her onto my back before I got out,” you say, shrugging. To you, it’s not a big deal. You’re certain that any one of your fellow cadets would have done the same, had they heard her terrified cries.

              “That’s amazing,” he says, looking at you proudly as he reaches out and tucks a lock of hair behind your ears. “You must be her hero now.”   You shake your head, brushing away his praise.

              “Anyone would have saved her, but it was almost impossible to hear her over all the noise.  I got lucky,” you say firmly, because he looks like he’s about to argue with you. He seems to decide to pursue the topic at another time and moves on.

              “And running back towards the shuttle?”

              “I…” you bite your lip a little, looking up at him. “Yeah.  I’d turned back towards it but I only got a few steps before… before…” your voice cracks as you think of the shuttle crewman who’d helped you down, and the nearby cadet who both must have perished in the explosion.  You can see the fear on their faces, clear as day, and the way the crewman had screamed at you to run the other way, seconds before the shuttle exploded. Tears spring to your eyes, and Leonard is immediately there, leaning towards you and opening his arms.  You sit up with a bit of difficulty and cling to him with your good hand as he wraps you in a warm embrace, your tears slipping down your cheeks and onto his shoulder.  You communicate what happened as well as you can in thoughts instead, because you can’t bear to say the words aloud.

              “I’m so sorry,” he says softly into your shoulder after a moment, his voice quiet, full of understanding.   He holds you while you cry for several long minutes, a wet patch steadily growing on the shoulder of his black t-shirt.  Only once you’ve subsided to sniffing wetly does he slowly let go of you, reaching for the tissue box and offering it to you.  You wipe your eyes and blow your nose, swallowing hard as he takes the tissue from you.  

              “I’m not going to tell you it’s all okay, because I know damn well that it’s not,” he says after a pause, and his voice is still quiet, concerned.  “But I do promise you that it’ll get better, with time,” he tells you, squeezing your hand once again.  “Okay?” You nod almost imperceptibly, but he knows you understand.  “I’m here, if you ever want to talk, or cry, or anything.”  You nod again, weakly squeezing his hand back to show your thanks, and he smiles sadly, stroking your arm.

              “You need rest, sweetheart,” he says after a few moments of quiet. “How’s your pain?  Your surgeon said I can give you your pain meds when you need them.”

              “I could use something for it, yeah,” you agree, acknowledging that you’re getting to a point where you can no longer ignore the agony in various parts of your body.  You watch as he rises and prepares a syringe, your brain taking a moment to catch up with what you’re seeing.  You suddenly remember that the first time you woke up, he’d given you something then, too. “Wait, why are you allowed to do that? You’re not…?-” you pause in confusion, watching as he looks up at you, a small smirk playing around his lips.

              “Because I’m a doctor, sweetheart,” he says, winking at you as he injects the medicine into the port on the IV.  How had he never mentioned that before?!  You’d known he was studying advanced xenophysiology and anatomy, but now that you thought about it, you realize the subject of exactly what he wanted to do within Starfleet had somehow never come up.

              “Oh,” you say weakly, thrown by this revelation.  Your soulmate is a doctor.  You feel a flicker of both excitement and intimidation, however both emotions are severely suppressed by your exhaustion, your pain, and the meds that are starting to kick in.  

              “Don’t worry about it, darlin’,” he says with a soft chuckle, seeing the bewildered look on your face as he sits back down beside you and takes your hand again.  “We can talk about it later.”  You nod and lean back against your pillows as you start to feel extremely groggy, your eyes closing almost immediately.  You feel his lips press against your forehead, and you smile as you snuggle deeper into your pillow.

              “Stay with me?” you whisper, curling your fingers around his as sleep beckons to you invitingly.

              “Always,” he replies, but you’re not entirely sure if he actually said it or you’d imagined it, as your body relaxes and you slip into a deep, restful sleep.

* * *

 

              You’re not sure how long it’s been since you woke up last, though you know at least a few days have passed since the accident.  Your hearing is nearly perfect again minus the faintest ringing, and your pain has finally started to ease a bit, though you still need regular doses of medicine to control it.  Your days consist mainly of sleep, interrupted regularly for meals and visits, the latter of which usually consists of just Leonard and your team of doctors and nurses, but occasionally others come to see you as well.  A couple of your friends, including your dormmate, your favourite professor and your evening duty supervisor had all come to make sure you were okay.

              This time, when your eyes slowly open, bright red hair is the first thing your mind registers.  Slightly confused, you blink a few times, and a child comes into focus in front of you, sitting in the chair at your bedside that Leonard usually inhabits, though he is nowhere to be seen at the moment.  Pain flowing through you makes you groan a little, and you do your best to ignore it as you look at the child.  The girl looks familiar, though at first you can’t place her thanks to your grogginess.  The memory comes rushing back almost at once, however: the image of her pale, soot-streaked face, screaming for help as she struggled to free herself from between the seats, the memory of her whimpers and cries as you escaped from the shuttle with her clinging to your back.   She seems very shy, now.  She’s looking at you with an expression of mild apprehension, so you smile at her, wanting her to feel comfortable.

              “Hi,” you say, clearing your throat as your voice croaks. “This is a lovely surprise.”   The girl bites her lip, clearly torn on whether or not to speak, her large brown eyes wide.  The girl glances towards the doorway, and you look over to see her mother standing there, smiling.  Her mother nods at her, and the girl takes a deep breath, then turns back to you.

              “My mum says I’m to thank you for saving my life,” she says, all in a rush, along with a big exhale of breath.  You smile, at both the girl’s words and her accent, and the girl seems relieved that she’s gotten her first words out. “And I wanted to thank you, too. So…” she pauses, a very serious look on her face.  “Thank you. You- you were really brave.”

              Your heart swells with affection and with just how adorable this kid is.  Despite her nervousness, her eyes are earnest and there’s a smattering of freckles over her nose and cheeks that give her face a very bright and inquisitive look. You can tell, despite the distance from the bed to the doorway, that her mother is tearing up, looking back and forth between yourself and her daughter. You smile warmly and beckon the girl closer; she shuffles her chair a bit closer to the bed and looks at you, waiting for you to speak.

              “You’re very welcome,” you say, carefully reaching out, mindful of your IV, to pat her knee gently.  “What’s your name, sweetheart?”

              “Janey,” she says, still a bit shy.  “What your name?”

              “That’s a really pretty name, Janey.”  You tell her your name, and she looks a little less nervous, now that you know each other.  “I think you were pretty brave, too.”  It takes a moment, but she slowly gives you a genuine smile as she processes what you said, practically beaming after a moment.

              “Really?” she asks, and you can practically feel her nervousness melt away when you give her a nod of confirmation.  “Thanks!”  You hear movement in the doorway and look over as her mother approaches.

              “I can’t thank you enough for what you did for us,” she says, and you can see the tears shimmering in her eyes.  “If you hadn’t gotten her out when you did…” she trails off, but she doesn’t need to finish the sentence for you to understand.  Perhaps the end of the statement was lost on Janey, but both you and her mother are well aware that had you not gotten her out when you did, Janey would certainly have died, still stuck in between the seats, her screams nearly drowned out by the alarms, sirens and crackling flames.

              “I’m just glad I heard her scream,” you say quietly, shaking your head, your insides going cold with the thought of what could have happened. “I’m just relieved I could help, ma’am.”

              “Please, call me Evelyn,” her mother said, and you are about to reply when there’s a swift knock on the door, followed by your surgeon, Dr. Medina, entering the room and stopping short when she sees you have guests.

              “Oh, I’m sorry,” she says, acknowledging the girl and her mother with a smile and a nod.  “I’ve just got to give her a dose of medication.  You can stay!” she calls, already at your IV pole but seeing that Evelyn looks as though she thinks they should leave.  “I will only be a minute.”  There’s a pause as she asks how you’re feeling and you brief her on your symptoms, which are generally getting better with each passing day.  Satisfied with your answers, she injects some medicine into your line and you sigh in relief as, within seconds, you can feel it taking the edge off your pain.

              “So is this your little sister?” Dr. Medina asks you, flashing a smile at Janey before entering something into the PADD on your bedside.

              “She saved me from the shuttle!” Janey interjects, before you can answer.  You can feel yourself blushing a little as the surgeon’s eyes settle on you.

              “Yes, I heard all about that,” Dr. Medina says, and you’re surprised to hear a note of warmth and pride in her voice as she looks at you, and then switches her gaze back to Janey.  “You’re a lucky girl!”

              Janey nods gravely at this, and you can’t help but let out a soft laugh at the look on her face.  Now that you know how bright Janey’s smile is, seeing her with a very solemn expression is absolutely adorable.  Dr. Medina chuckles and goes back to her notes on the PADD, finishing up after a moment and tucking the tablet back into it’s place on the monitoring equipment.

              “I’ll come and check on you in an hour or so,” she tells you, and you nod, feeling very relaxed now that your pain has completely faded from the meds she’s given you.  

              “Thanks, Doctor,” you say, and she nods, pats you on the shoulder, and turns to leave.  As she does so, she requests and receives a high-five from Janey and exits the room, grinning.  

              “Your doctor is really cool,” Janey comments, smiling freely now.  You chuckle and nod, shifting a bit and huddling down a little under your blanket, letting out a soft sigh.

              “Yeah, she is pretty awesome,” you agree.  “Want to see how she fixed up my arm?”  Janey nods enthusiastically so you lift your opposite arm and show her the long row of stitches on your forearm, where the shrapnel had sliced you open.  The wound is several days old now but is still fairly impressive, and you smile as Janey’s face is a mask of amazement.

              “Woah!” she says, standing up to get a closer look. “That’s awesome!  I wanna be a doctor too!” she says enthusiastically, and you smile at her again as she flops back into her chair.

              “I bet you’ll be an amazing doctor,” you say, tucking your arm back under your blanket and listening as Janey starts talking about her favourite school subjects and wondering how long it will take her to become a doctor.  You’re sincerely interested, as this little girl has very quickly won over your heart, but the meds are making you very sleepy and you’re having a hard time keeping your eyes open.

              “Janey, love, we should let her rest now,” Evelyn says after another minute or two, when she notices that you’re trying to force yourself to stay awake.  

              “Awww,” Janey groans, disappointed, but then she too notices how tired you look.  “Okay. But… can I visit you again?” she asks, suddenly shy again.

              “Of course you can, sweetie,” you say tiredly, reaching out to pat her knee again.  “You can come back anytime your mom says it’s okay.”

              “Thank you!” Janey says, and without warning, she throws her small arms around as much of you as she can reach.  Surprised but pleased, you chuckle and give her an awkward one-armed hug, patting her on the back.  She and Evelyn leave you alone and you smile as you close your eyes and begin to drift off to sleep, thanking your lucky stars you’d been in the right place at the right time to save such a wonderful kid.

\----------------------

  
               The next day when you wake, Leonard is the first thing you see as your eyes flutter open.  You smile through your grogginess at the sight of his now-familiar face, his hair that sticks up whenever he runs a hand through it.  He’s eating something, but the moment he sees you’re awake he puts it down on the bedside table, wipes his hands and reaches for one of yours as he swallows his food.

              “Hi there,” he says, squeezing your hand and giving you a quick smile.  “How are you feeling?”

              “A lot better, actually,” you say, squeezing his hand back and smiling at him.  “I still feel really achy, but otherwise…” you trail off, watching him as a pleading expression comes over your face.  “Can I please get out of this bed now?!  I’m going stir-crazy in here.”  You’ve asked him this several times over the last day or two, and every time he has declined, completely infuriating in his insistence that rest is the most important thing for you.  You’re prepared to argue with him, so it’s a pleasant - and entirely unexpected - surprise when he sighs and then chuckles.

              “Yeah, I think it’s time,” he agrees, and you stare at him, your mouth slightly open.

              “I- I thought I was going to have to argue that a lot harder,” you say, and you both laugh.  

              “Dr. Medina said that as long as all your tests are normal tonight, you can leave in the morning,” he tells you, and your mouth falls open slightly again, before transforming into a grin.

              “Really? That’s great!”

              “Yeah, she thinks you’re ready.  She’s been the one taking care of you the most, though you’ve been asleep the majority of times she’s been in here,” he tells you, trailing a finger down your arm as he speaks, making you shiver.

              “Oh, I like her,” you say, smiling, a warm feeling of happiness flooding through you at the thought of being able to leave this bed so soon.   “Can we go for that walk now?” you ask eagerly, pushing the blanket off of your upper body in readiness.

              “Walk? Who said anything about walking?” Leonard asks, standing up and moving towards the front of the room.

              “I, uh… you said that I could…?!” you say, confused.

              “I didn’t say that you could  _walk_ ,” he says, laughing at the confused and suddenly frustrated look on your face.  “I said you could get out of bed.”

              “Okay, what–”

              “Here,” he says, and he comes back around the side of the bed, pushing a wheelchair.

              “Oh,” you say, frowning.  “Leonard, come on, I can wa-”

              “You either ride in the chair, or you stay in bed until you’re discharged tomorrow, no arguments,” he tells you, a hand on his hip, a stern look on his face.  You sigh, but you know there’s no point in arguing.  You know by now that when he’s set on something, nothing will convince him.

              “Fine,” you grumble at him, and he smirks in triumph at you.   You roll your eyes as you shuffle to the edge of the bed and let your legs hang down over the edge of it for the first time in days.  You take a deep breath, suddenly nervous to stand again, mentally preparing yourself. Sensing your hesitation, Leonard comes to your side and puts a supporting arm around your shoulders, helping you slip off the bed.  Your good leg, albeit a bit wobbly, supports your weight fine when it hits the floor. Your other leg, with the deep wound in your thigh, sends a shock of pain through your muscles as it takes your weight and your knee suddenly buckles.  You gasp at the pain and in panic as you feel like you’re about to topple over, but Leonard holds you tight as you clutch his coat desperately and helps you turn, sitting you down in the chair as your heart races.

              “It’s alright,” he says soothingly, sweeping your hair out of your face and leaning down, kissing the top of your head.  He pulls the blanket off your bed and tucks it around your lap, stroking your hair as he catches sight of the upset look on your face.   “That leg is going to hurt for the first few days as you start walking again,” he says gently.  “You’ve been in a bed for nearly five days, your muscles are seized up and your thigh has been healing while you’ve barely moved.  It’s totally normal and I’ll help you through it, I promise.”

              You nod mutely, swallowing the lump in your throat that rose from the shock of nearly falling over, your hands trembling slightly.  You tuck them under the blanket so he won’t see them, closing your eyes as he leans down to kiss your forehead.  You feel reassured by his calm words and his warm presence, and after a minute or two of taking some deep breaths, you look up at him.

              “Thank you.  I think I’m okay now.” He nods at you, like he has no doubt that you’re okay, and is about to push the chair when your stomach lets out an audible growl.  You blush slightly, rubbing your stomach with a hand.  “Oh, I guess I’m hungry,” you say, smiling sheepishly at him.  He laughs and hands you the other half of the sandwich he’d been eating, and you devour it before he’s pushed you to the end of the hallway.

              Your stomach mollified for now, you enjoy the change of scenery as Leonard pushes you in the chair down several hallways and into a courtyard, filled with plants of all kinds and a large, beautiful fountain in the centre.  There are patients scattered around the yard, some wandering around on their own, others in chairs like yours, being pushed by loved ones or nurses. Leonard pushes you twice around the fountain, bringing you close enough at the end so you can touch the ripples. You smile as the cold water laps at your fingers, blissfully unaware that while you watch the water, mesmerized, Leonard is watching you, a small, loving smile on his face.

              The excursion ends far too soon in your opinion, as Leonard suddenly declares that it’s enough activity for you for one day, but you don’t really argue as you settle back in the chair and let him push you back to your room.  You do feel tired, truthfully, and just getting out of your bed for a while has raised your spirits immensely.  The thought of actually being able to return to your dorm, surrounded by the familiar smells, sounds and your own things makes you very happy.

              You grumble a little as Leonard insists on scooping you out of the chair to put you back in bed, but it honestly feels so nice to be in his arms that you can’t muster up much of a complaint, instead half-wishing you could think of an excuse for him to keep holding you like this for longer.  He seems to sense this and squeezes you briefly, prompting a giggle, before setting you down gently on the bed and covering you up with the blanket. He stands beside you, leaning on the bed and stroking your cheek as you smile sleepily up at him, feeling truly content for the first time in this hospital room.  

              “Ah, there you two are,” a voice interrupts your thoughts and you look over to see Dr. Medina bustling into the room.  The surgeon pats her pockets and sighs, then looks over at Leonard.  “Leonard, dear, go and fetch me some vials for blood tests, I seem to have forgotten them on my way up here,” she says, her voice friendly though clear that she expects compliance, and Leonard immediately lets go of your hand and stands up properly.

              “Yes ma’am,” he says, and hurries out of the room at once.  You look at Dr. Medina in amazement, wondering what’s gone on between the two of them, as you can tell very well by their interaction that there’s more to it than just a cadet and their superior.  The tone she used with him was one of familiarity, almost fondness, and you’re puzzled.

              “Does Leonard work with you?” you ask curiously, as she fiddles with the PADD at your bedside.

              “What’s that, dear?” Dr. Medina’s voice is distracted, and she finishes tapping away on the tablet before turning to look at you properly.  “Oh, no, Leonard has not yet been assigned to my OR,” she says, sounding as though she is disappointed by the fact.  “From what I’ve heard, he’s an excellent doctor, though,” she tells you, smiling warmly.  “You’re a lucky girl.” A memory from the previous day stirs at these words; you remember her telling Janey the same thing.  You study her curiously as she moves around the room, checking your vitals, doing things to the monitoring equipment and digging through drawers for supplies.

              “You know he’s my soulmate, don’t you?” you asked the surgeon, and she grins at you, which you understand to be a confirmation.  “He told you?”

              “Yes, dear, and honestly even if he hadn’t, I would’ve figured it out.  I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so committed.  He hasn’t left your side except when you’ve had other visitors the entire time you’ve been in here.  He even disobeyed a direct order for you,” she says, her voice lowering conspiratorially, amusement in her eyes.

              “Yes,” you say, still thinking about what she said about him not leaving your side.  “I suspected as much, he–” you pause as her last sentence catches up with you and you gape at her in amazement. “Wait, what? Why?”  

              Dr. Medina winks and finishes collecting supplies from the drawer, bringing them over to your bed and setting them down on the table before she speaks.  She tells you what happened when you were brought into the OR, how Leonard demanded to be allowed to help, how he’d disobeyed her direct order to leave.  She tells you her own story that she’d told Leonard as well, and that she let him stay because of it, and how he’s barely eaten or slept since the accident.   By the time she’s finished talking, your eyes are full of tears, and she reaches for your hand, holding it tight in hers.

              “I’m just thankful you’re okay, dear, and that you were brought to me before it was too late. My soulmate survived and we’ve been happy ever since, and I’m thrilled that you and Leonard have that same opportunity.”  She squeezes your hand, pats you on the shoulder and turns to the doorway as Leonard reappears, holding a small plastic box filled with vials.

              “I wasn’t sure how many you wanted, Ma’am, so I grabbed a full box,” he says as he re-enters the room, holding out the box to her.

              “Thank you dear,” she says, taking the box from him and preparing to take your blood. Leonard looks over at you and it’s clear that he immediately notices the tears in your eyes.  He hurries over to you, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder, his thumb stroking your neck.

              “Are you okay?” he asks worriedly, clearly concerned.  You sniff and nod, pressing your cheek against his hand as he slips it up to your face.  “Are you sure?  Are you in pain?”

              “She’s fine, Leonard,” Dr. Medina says gently, before you can figure out what to say to him. “Sometimes healing can be emotional. Right, dear?”  She looks knowingly at you, and you give her a watery smile, nodding.  You’re grateful that she seems to understand how you feel; you can’t yet form the words to express to Leonard how much it means to you that he cares so deeply about you.   Leonard looks unsure, but accepts your response, stroking your cheek a few times before standing aside for the doctor to take the blood she needs for your tests.

              Within a few minutes, she’s finished, and she tucks the blood-filled vials into a different container and secures it before turning back to you.

“I’m going to give you a half-dose of triptocedrine now.  I’ll let you know in a few hours if your tests come back normal, and if they do, you will be free to go first thing tomorrow morning.”

              “Thank you,” you tell her gratefully.  “For everything.”  You try to express in your tone how much you mean it, and she smiles at you, her expression softening once more.

              “Don’t you worry,” she says, tucking the container of empty vials under her arm.  “It was a pleasure.”  She winks at you again, making you grin, reaches out to gently touch Leonard’s arm for a moment, and you see some silent communication pass between them as they look at each other.  A moment later, she’s picked up the box with the vials of your blood and left the room, leaving you and Leonard alone once more.

              “I, uh… I suppose she told you what happened in the OR?” Leonard asks after a long pause, sounding sheepish, and you look at him, amused to see the slightly abashed look on his face.  You nod, biting your lip to keep from laughing, and he groans, flopping down in the chair beside your bed and putting his head in his hands.  “I knew it.  Go ahead, say whatever it is you want to say about it,” he says, sounding grumpy but good-natured.

              “We’ll talk about it tomorrow,” you say, reaching out and putting your hand on his arm.  You’re feeling extremely tired again, and though you would like nothing more than to talk with him, you know that you’re going to be out soon from the meds anyway. “As soon as I’m free, we can talk all day long.” Leonard smiles at you and turns his arm, sliding your hand along until he can hold it in his, bringing the back of your hand to his mouth and giving it a kiss.

              “Sounds good to me,” he says softly, watching your eyes fluttering closed, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb.  “Sweet dreams, Y/N.”


	5. Chapter 5

             When you wake up the next morning, you’re almost immediately overwhelmed with happiness. You get to leave the hospital today, and finally start getting your life back on track.  You’re tired of lying in a hospital bed and while you know it’s going to be a painful recovery, both emotionally and physically, you just want to get back to the way things used to be.  A nurse comes to check your vitals and get you to sign a form confirming your discharge, and then Leonard helps you get dressed into a new pair of cadet uniform pants and a new Starfleet issue t-shirt, forgoing the cadet jacket for now, because your arm and ribs are still very tender and he doesn’t want to irritate your injuries.

              You sit back down on the bed after you have your clothes on and Leonard crouches down to slip socks and boots onto your feet, as it still hurts your ribs an incredible amount to bend over.  You can’t wait to get back to your room to have a hot shower and properly wash your hair.  You feel gross and grungy after lying in this bed for five days and you desperately want to wash away the grime and the hospital smell.  

              Just as Leonard finishes tying your boots and stands up again, there’s a knock on the door.  You glance at Leonard questioningly as he shrugs and calls for the person to come in.  You straighten up your back instinctively as a large, tall man in a formal Command uniform enters the room.  He looks at each of you in turn for a moment, and then greets you both by name with a brusque voice, his British accent making him sound even more formal. Leonard shakes his hand and then steps aside as the officer approaches you.

              “I am Commander Morgan,” he says to you, reaching for your hand.  Your heart thumps in your chest as you shake his hand, doing your best to seem confident, but you’d never been addressed directly by a commander before, and you feel alive with nervous jitters.

              “Yes sir,” you say in acknowledgment.  You’d known who he was as soon as he’d walked in the door. He is Janey’s father, First Officer of the ship you’d been training on, and you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t wondered if you’d be meeting him at some point, after what’d happened.

              “I wanted to thank you in person for saving my daughter,” he says gruffly, gripping your hand a little tighter before letting it go entirely. “Our family owes you a debt.”

              “Not at all, sir,” you say, trying to banish the slight tremble in your voice from your nerves.  “I did what anyone would do.  I’m just glad I was able to get her out in time.”  The commander shakes his head, looking grave.

              “Aren’t we all,” he says, and a moment of silence passes. “Jane hasn’t stopped talking about you since it happened,” Commander Morgan smiles slightly at this, and you can see kindness in his eyes as his expression softens.  “I rather think she’d like to adopt you as a big sister.” You can feel your cheeks flush pink at these words, and catch a glimpse of Leonard grinning proudly behind the Commander.

              “I liked her too, sir,” you say after a moment, giving him a hesitant but genuine smile.  “She’s a very bright child, I’d be lucky to have her as sister.”

              “Well, please feel free to spend time with her if you’d like to. She’d be thrilled.”  You look at him, your smile still in place as you think about what he’s said.  You’ve always wanted a little sibling – you’re an only child, so the prospect of having something like a younger sister is very appealing.

              “I’d like that, sir,” you say after a moment, and he nods with a brisk smile.  He reaches out to shake your hand again and this time you don’t have to hide a tremble, your grip on his hand sure.  He turns to leave after nodding at Leonard, but he turns in the doorway to consider you once more.

              “I’ve been told you’re studying to become a xenozoologist,” he says, after a moment’s pause. You glance quickly at Leonard before looking back at the Commander and nodding.

              “That’s right, sir.”

              “My ship’s Biological Sciences department is sorely lacking at the moment, and one of our senior zoologists will be retiring in two years.”  He pauses, and you can feel your heart rate accelerating as you dare to wonder if you he’s about to say what you’re thinking he might.  He looks at you steadily, sternly, and then his expression softens again, just slightly, as he speaks.  “There will be a position waiting for you on the USS Helios, if you so desire it when you graduate.”    You look at him, trying desperately to swallow the lump in your throat, to not look like you’re about to burst into tears, to not look like you want to scream with excitement.

              “Th-Thank you, sir.  It’d be an honour,” you tell him, unable to banish the slightest tremble in your voice, though he seems to understand.  He nods at you again with the smallest of smiles and you salute him. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Leonard salute him as well. Commander Morgan salutes you both before turning and leaving the room without another word.   There is a ringing silence after his departure, in which you and Leonard stare at each other in amazement.   For a first year cadet to already have an offer on one of the best ships in the fleet was practically unheard of.

              “Congratulations,” Leonard says, moving back to your side and hugging you.  You shake your head in disbelief, hugging him back and beaming up at him.  

              “Thank you. That was amazing,” you say, looking down at your hands as they begin to tremble in earnest as a small rush of adrenaline courses through you.  “I didn’t sound like an idiot, did I?” you ask, suddenly worried.  You’d been so focused on saying the right thing, you weren’t sure how it had actually sounded when the words came out of your mouth. Leonard laughs and ruffles your hair, then puts his arm around your shoulders and helps you stand again.

              “Not at all, sweetheart, don’t you worry your pretty little head.  You were perfect.”  Shaking your head in disagreement with him, (because how could you possibly have been perfect?), you’re prevented from verbally disagreeing with him by the pain in your thigh as you carefully let your leg take your weight again.  You get settled in the wheelchair Leonard had taken you out in the day before, and with one last glance at the room you’d spent nearly a week in, you were gone.  Leonard pushes you through the hallways and several floors down a turbolift before you reach the main reception desk at the front of the hospital.  Leonard checks you out formally and before you know it, you’re outside for the first time in five days.  You blink rapidly in the bright sunlight as your eyes get used to it, tilting your head upwards to drink in as much of the sun’s warmth as possible. You hear Leonard chuckle as he pushes you along, but you’re too happy to be outside again to comment on it.

              It only takes a few minutes for him to push the chair all the way to the dorm building, and though you’re sad to leave the sunlight, when the familiar smells of the building waft over you, you know that you’re just as glad to be back here.  Clearly wanting to avoid you having to answer multitudes of questions from your friends and fellow cadets, Leonard slips into a less-used hallway, only emerging into the main hallway after taking the turbolift to the fourth floor, where your room is.  Thankfully there is no one around, and you fish the new ID badge you were given (the old one had been lost in the accident) and scan the panel beside the door, watching the door slide open.  

              You look around as Leonard pushes the chair carefully over the lip of the door and into the room, and sigh contentedly at the familiar sights. There are many things unfamiliar, however;  there are no less than seven brightly coloured, large bouquets of flowers sitting on every available surface, even a tiny bouquet on top of your small fish tank. You stare in amazement at them all, inhaling their wonderful scents.

              “Did you do this?” you ask Leonard after a moment, staring up at him.  “They’re so beautiful.”

              “Yeah I did,” he says softly, smiling at you.  “But they’re not half so beautiful as you.” You look up at him through your lashes, feeling bashful and flattered and nervous all at the same time.  He reaches out and strokes your cheek with his hand, and you reach up and put your hand over his, holding it to your cheek.   “Although the little one on the aquarium is from Janey.” You laugh softly, then look up at him, shaking your head slightly.

              “Thank you,” you say softly, turning your head and kissing his palm.  “For everything you’ve done for me.”  

              “You don’t have to thank me,” he says, shaking his head. “You’re my soulmate.  There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you.”   He sits down on the bed in front of you and gently pulls you from the chair and into his arms, so you’re sitting sideways in his lap.  Laughing softly, you wrap your arms around his neck and give him a proper hug for the first time, melting into his embrace, pressing your cheek against the side of his head.  You can’t ignore how  _right_  it feels in his arms and you let out a long breath, close your eyes and just sit there with him for a long time, simply wrapped up in each other’s arms.  You can feel the emotions coursing through both of you, and you know you’re both thinking about how close you came to never meeting at all, and how grateful you both are that you’re here now, sitting together like this.

              “Come on.  Let’s run you a bath,” he says after a very long silence, slowly lowering his arms from where they’d been wrapped around your back.  “I know how much you’re dying for a bubble bath.”  You groan in longing and he laughs, carefully slipping you off of his lap and down onto the bottom bunk, which reminds you:

              “Where’s Zoe?” you ask, glancing around the room, as though you expect to see your roommate lurking somewhere.  

              “She went on leave for a week to visit some family in Nevada. Great timing, really.  She came to see you to make sure you were okay before she left, but you were sleeping and I didn’t want her to wake you.”  He calls to you from the bathroom, where you can hear him setting up for your bath.

              “Oh,” you say, slightly disappointed. You miss your roommate, as you’ve actually become really good friends over the last few months, but you think that perhaps he’s right.   “Does that mean you’ll stay here with me, while she’s gone?” you call hopefully towards the bathroom, but at the same moment you hear the water turn on so you’re not sure if he heard you.   Leonard reappears a minute later, wiping water off of his hands on his pants, looking over at you, and you can tell by his expression that he  _had_  heard you.

              “If you want me to, I’d be happy to stay,” he says, his expression a mixture of hope and amusement.  

              “Well, I mean… I can’t deny that having my own personal doctor while I’m healing wouldn’t be an asset…” you say teasingly, letting your words trail off as you try not to grin. He pretends to look offended, and you let out a laugh.  “Of course I want you to stay.  We’ll finally have a chance to get to know each other.”

              “Well then, it’s done,” he says, leaning over and kissing your forehead, looking pleased.  “I’ll run back to my room to grab some stuff later.  In the meantime – bath.”   Leonard leans over and carefully helps you stand, looping an arm around your back. You take a deep breath and begin to slowly walk forwards with him, cringing at the pain in your thigh with every second step.  “You’re doin’ real good, almost there,” he encourages you, and you bite your lip to keep yourself from whimpering.  You’re doing it, you’re walking for real, it just hurts more than you had expected it to. Finally you’re there and you let out a sigh of relief as you put most of your weight on your good leg, leaning against the vanity.

              “Do… do you want me to go while you undress?” Leonard looks a bit unsure, and you smile.  You think he’s absolutely adorable when he’s concerned, and you reach out to touch his cheek, looking into his eyes, before letting your hand trail down his arm.

              “No, I’m probably going to need help with the pants,” you say honestly.  Though you’re feeling a tad shy and you know that he might find your body attractive, he’s also a doctor and you’re sure he will not have a problem looking at your body in a platonic way while he helps you out, so you don’t feel too bad about being naked around him.  “I trust you.”  He gives you a small smile with the faintest exhale of breath, and you can tell he’s glad that he’s earned your trust.

              You’re able to take off your t-shirt on your own, and undo the pants, but twisting your arms to unhook your bra is too painful on the arm with the long cut, and bending down to remove anything below the waist is out of the question.  He quickly but gently helps you undress, tossing your things onto the vanity.  You cross your arm over your chest out of instinct as he removes your bra, but you honestly don’t feel afraid or ashamed, even when he looks down at you, because you know he’s being respectful.  You wait, impatient to get into the water, as he applies a clear, waterproof dressing to your two wounds that have stitches, wincing a little as he has to adjust the one on your arm and rips out a few arm hairs.  You catch sight of yourself in the mirror and stare for a moment, realizing it’s the first time you’ve seen yourself since the accident.  You stare at the large scabby wound on your forehead and look slowly down your body, wincing at the sight of the huge patches of dark purple bruising around your ribs.  No wonder they hurt so much.

              It’s a bit scary climbing into the tub, as you’re worried you might slip on your bad leg, but his grip is strong and sure and you sink grateful down into the hot, bubble-covered water with a loud, happy sigh.   The heat engulfs you nearly to the chest and you shuffle down until you’ve sunk up to your shoulders in the water, your knees just peeking out.

              “This. Is.  _Heaven_.” You sigh again, smiling dreamily and he laughs, amused by your reaction.

              “You soak for a few minutes, then,” he says, chuckling.  “I’m going to grab my stuff while you relax. I’ll be back before you know it.”

              “Okay,” you say, barely paying attention to what he was saying. You hear him leave but are perfectly content to lie there for a while, the hot water easing most of your aches and pains and relaxing your muscles.  After a while, you make a cursory effort to clean yourself, managing to get most, if not all, the dirt, grime and blood that hadn’t already been removed from your skin.  You wince as you reach up to tuck some hair behind your ear, the movement tugging on the edges of the wound on your forearm, and you wonder how you’re going to wash your hair.

              “I can wash your hair for you, if you like.”  Leonard’s voice floats to you from the doorway, making you start in surprise; you hadn’t heard him come back.

              “Oh, you don’t mind?” you ask, warming up to the idea immediately.

              “Of course not,” he says, fully entering the room.  You can see that he’s already holding a plastic pitcher from the cupboard in the kitchen and you smile, realizing he’d already planned to help you with your hair.   He kneels down beside the tub and dips the pitcher into the water as you sit up straight so it’s easier for him to get at your head.  “Close your eyes.”

              You do as you’re told and flinch as the water hits the top of your head, then smile as it cascades down your hair and face, engulfing you in it.  He slowly upends three pitchers full onto your head, smiling as you splutter a couple of times, then spreads the shampoo over your head and begins to gently massage it into your hair.  You can feel it lather and shiver as the bubbles slip down your neck and over your shoulders, tickling your skin.  He does a very thorough job, for which you are eternally grateful;  you could feel the soot and ash clinging to your hair before, and you hated the way it had felt.

              He rinses your hair, filling the pitcher four times in the sink and gently shaking your hair as he pours the water over it, trying to get all of the shampoo out.  You’re thoroughly enjoying this and you grin at him, making him chuckle as he opens the bottle of conditioner and begins to work it into your hair.   Once the conditioner is in, you expect him to stop working it through your hair and let it sit, but he continues to move his fingers, giving you a firm but somehow still gentle head massage.  You let out a whimper of pleasure as he runs his fingers along your scalp, back and forth, making scratching motions in some places, dragging his fingers in others.  

              “That feel good?” he asks softly, and you can imagine that he’s watching you, but your eyes are closed and your face is a mask of bliss as he continues.  You make a strangled noise of pleasure and he laughs.  “I’ll take that as a yes.”   You manage an “mmhmm” and sigh happily, thinking of nothing but his hands and they way they feel.  

              “Can you stand up?” he asks after a while.  “I think the shower will be easier to get conditioner out.”   You sigh slightly, sad that your exquisite scalp massage is over, but you nod and open your eyes, holding out a hand to him for help.  Carefully and with his guidance, you manage to stand, wobbling slightly as water and bubbles stream from your body into the tub.  “Hold onto the wall, you’ll be fine,” he says, squeezing your shoulder. He detaches the retractable showerhead and begins to rinse your hair, making sure all of the conditioner is out before giving your body a quick rinse, to wash away any of the dirty tub water and all of the bubbles.  

              Once you’re done, he helps you out of the tub and wraps you up in a large, fluffy towel.  After getting changed into warm, cozy pyjamas and eating some lunch, you are starting to feel extremely tired again.  After yawning three times in two sentences, Leonard shakes his head and pats your hand.

              “Why don’t you take a nap?  You still need plenty of sleep while you heal.”  You yawn again before you can even answer, which you suppose is a pretty strong indication that he’s correct.

              “Okay.  What are you going to do?” You slowly stand as you speak, managing it on your own and supporting yourself on your chair.

              “Oh, I have to study, I have my make-up exam tomorrow,” he says, standing too and watching you closely.  “Do you need a hand?”

              “No, I want to try on my own,” you tell him, frowning as you process what he said.  “What make-up exam?  I thought you were finished your exams?”  Your mouth falls open and your eyes widen as you realize for the first time that the shuttle had crashed during his last exam.  If he’d rushed to your side immediately like he’d said, he must have – “Did you leave your final to come and find me?!” you ask in a hushed voice, shocked. He looks at you, clearly torn between amusement and exasperation again.

              “Of course I did.  I could hear you screaming in my head, I wasn’t about to just sit there and finish my test while you were in danger.”

              You honestly don’t know what to say to that, so you decide to try walking over to the bed while you think.  You know he’s right, and you know that you would have done the same thing. Still, you can’t believe how much he’d done for you.  It makes your heart swell so much it practically hurts.  

              Using the chair and then reaching for the desk as support, you begin to slowly hobble towards the bed, wincing at the pain but feeling a bit more limber than before.   The hot water seems to have eased some of the stiffness in your muscles and you make it to the bed with only a couple of stumbles, Leonard following close behind to catch you if you fell.  You turn slowly and sit down on the bed, smiling up at him in triumph at your success. He smiles and pulls back the blankets for you, and you lie down and settle yourself in them, curling up on your side, facing into the room.  Leonard perches on the edge of the bed beside you and strokes your hair, clearly wanting to soothe you to sleep.  The smooth, repetitive motion of his strokes lulls you into a sleepy trance in no time, and within minutes, your body relaxes as you slip into sleep once again.

 

* * *

 

               _Your heart is racing.  You feel confusion and fear coursing through you as you look around, unable to orient yourself.  There’s an eerie red light permeating the area and smoke so thick you can barely see through it at all. You cough as you inevitably inhale the cloying cloud, frantically looking around you.  There is no one to be seen anywhere near you, but you have finally figured out where you are as you move your hands around, trying to orient yourself through touch. You’re clearly in a shuttle that’s filling up with smoke, and as it seems to be getting hotter by the second, you can only guess that flames are close behind._

_The shuttle door bursts open, sucking a lot of the smoke out into the bright light, but immediately a wall of flames flares up near the back of the shuttle, bright orange and deadly hot, flickering menacingly as they begin to consume the ship.  You’re about to leap to safety when you hear a terrified scream and realize you’re not alone.  You climb the row of seats behind you and spot a child, stuck below you.  You pull her free and fling her onto your back, scrambling to get back to the front of the shuttle.  Just as you’re about to leap through the door, it slams shut, plunging you both into semi-darkness, with nothing but smoke and flames for company. You pound on the door as the girl’s screams fill your ears, the smoke choking you as you desperately cry for help…_

You shoot up into a sitting position in bed so fast that you crack your head on the top bunk above you, letting out a cry of pain at the hit and distress from the dream.  You clutch your head as you breathe fast and hard, tears streaming unnoticed down your face as the top of your head throbs.

              “Hey, hey, it’s okay!” Leonard’s voice is there, suddenly, and you open your eyes to see him in front of you, his concerned face filling your field of view.   “It’s okay,” he says again, soothingly, reaching up and holding your head in both hands, stroking your hair on either side.

              “I- I was back there,” you tell him, your voice breaking as you start to sob.  “I was stuck  _in_  it this time, with Janey, we were going to d-di-”

              “You are not going to die.  Janey is not going to die.  You’re both safe, I promise,” Leonard tells you, his voice soft but firm, his fingers gently gripping your head, trying to get you to focus on him.   He gives up a moment later and wraps his arms around you instead, rubbing your back as you cry and then hiccup into his shoulder, your face buried in his shirt as you your arms clutch him around his neck.

              “Banged my head on the bunk, too,” you murmur after a while, sniffing and putting a hand up to the top of your head, gingerly feeling the bump that’s forming where you smacked it.  
  
              “I heard that,” Leonard says sympathetically, pulling away and looking at you.  “I’ll bring you some ice, it’ll feel better.”  He kisses you on the forehead and heaves himself to his feet, walking away and then returning with ice pack wrapped in a towel, which he gently places on top of your head. You wince, and then sigh with relief as the chill quickly calms the throbbing pain.

              “Thanks,” you mumble, reaching up to hold the ice pack there so Leonard could let go.  “Did I wake you up?”

              “No, don’t worry,” Leonard says soothingly, patting your arm. “I was already up, getting ready to go.”

              “Go?” You’re momentarily confused, until you remember. “Oh! Your exam!  Are you ready?!”  He smiles at your concern as he moves over to the small kitchenette and pour himself a cup of coffee.  

              “Yes, I studied plenty last night while you were sleeping. You slept right through dinner,” he tells you fondly, coming back over to the bed and offering you a cup of coffee with cream and sugar, just the way you like it. Your stomach growls in response to the smell of the coffee and you smile slightly.

              “Seems like it.”

              “I went to the cafeteria a little while ago and got you some breakfast.  It’s in the fridge, all you have to do it heat it up,” he tells you, sipping his coffee with an urgency that tells you he needs to leave soon.  “And take the pills I left by the coffee maker.  I was going to leave you a note, but since you’re awake…” he smiles and drains the last of his coffee.

              You shakily pull yourself into a standing position as he shoulders his backpack and comes over to give you a hug.

              “Will you be okay on your own?  It should only take a couple of hours,” he says, his hands on either side of your face, looking at you with concern.  Though you still feel a little shaky from the dream, your main focus at the moment is getting some food into your snarling stomach, and you know you’ll be fine once you’ve eaten.

              “Yes, don’t worry about me,” you say, smiling at him, trying to sound reassuring.  

              “I always worry about you,” he sighs, and you shake your head.

              “Well, don’t, I’m fine,” you say firmly, gently bumping your forehead against his.   “Good luck.”

              “Thanks.  I’ll be back soon, I promise.”  Leonard kisses your cheek and heads for the door, giving you a little wave before he steps through it.   You let out a big sigh into the silence of the room, which is almost immediately interrupted by the loud growling of your stomach.  Laughing a little, you ditch the ice pack on the table and head into the kitchen to heat up the food he’d brought you, scarfing down the bacon, eggs and toast.   Your stomach full, you wander carefully over to the couch and sit gingerly down on it, pulling out a tablet and browsing the books you’ve downloaded but haven’t read yet, hoping to distract yourself from unwelcome thoughts until Leonard came back.

 

* * *

 

              The next day, laden with heavy hearts, Leonard helps you get dressed in your formal uniform, then pulls on his own.  Starfleet is holding a memorial ceremony for those that had perished in the crash, and all cadets are required to attend.  You would have, anyway, of course.  You’re a bit worried about walking so far on your leg – it’s feeling better every day, but it’s still a hard to move freely on it, and it still hurts quite a bit.   You feel a wave of relief when Leonard shows you the crutches he brought you to use.

              “Ready?” he asks, his voice quiet and sombre.  You sigh and nod, knowing that it is going to be an emotional few hours ahead of you.  He gives you a small, sympathetic smile and a hug, which you lean into gratefully, the stiff fabric of his uniform brushing your cheek.   He leads you slowly out of the dorm, letting you get used to the crutches at your own pace.  Thankfully this is not the first time you’ve had to use crutches, and you’re able to master them again fairly quickly.

              Half of the cadets are already there by the time you arrive, and you nod at those that greet you as you pass.  It’s the first time since the crash that you’ve been around so many people, and your heart is pounding with anxiety.  You’re aware that the crutches make it fairly obvious that you were on the shuttle, so even those that hadn’t known will know now.  You can feel eyes following you as you crutch your way up to near the front, where the first few rows have been reserved for those that had been in the crash and the family and friends of those that had been lost.               Leonard is technically not supposed to be sitting in these rows with you, but no one comments or tries to stop him as he guides you into a seat and then sits beside you. You’re grateful; you already know this is going to be hard, and you’re not sure you’d be able to handle it without Leonard there.  

              You’re staring down at your lap, trying not to look at the caskets at the front of the assembly, each draped with a United Federation of Planets flag.  There are five of them;  you know now that the crewman and cadet you’d seen were not the only ones to have died. The pilot, co-pilot and a second crewman had also not gotten out in time.  Leonard had told you the night before that the cockpit had been badly damaged and pinned under the rest of the shuttle, and there had been no way for them to get out before the explosion.  Your heart is in your throat as you think about the cadet and crewman. You’d seen them only seconds before their deaths.  Part of you had held on to some tiny hope that they may have survived, and now you’re attempting to deal with the overwhelming truth that they had not. You wring your hands in your lap, trying to take deep breaths, trying not to succumb to tears already.  You know they’ll come, later, but for now you keep trying to hold it together, though it’s getting harder by the second.

              “Hi, Y/N.”  You hear a voice beside you and look up to see Janey peering at you.  She looks concerned, wearing a black dress with lace around the hem of the skirt, her hair and freckles standing out in the bright sunlight and making her look pale and fragile.

              “Hi Janey,” you say, and you smile at her, genuinely happy to see her, despite the heaviness of your heart.  “Hi Evelyn,” you say, looking up and seeing her mother standing behind her. Your heart skips a beat as you see Commander Morgan step up behind his wife.  You feel Leonard stand up beside you in reaction to the Commander’s presence, and you struggle to get your crutches aligned properly so you can stand as well.

              “At ease, Cadets,” Commander Morgan shakes his head as you start to rise.  “Please, stay seated.”  You nod, giving him a brief smile.

              “Can we sit with you?” Janey asks eagerly, looking up at you hopefully, her hand on your knee.  You smile and nod, patting her hand.

              “Of course, as long as it’s where your parents would like to sit.” Evelyn smiles at you and the three sit down, Janey directly beside you, chattering to you about what she’d been doing since you’d last seen her.  

              “Janey, love, what did I tell you about talking too much, today?” Evelyn’s voice is mildly stern; she seems to be worried that Janey’s incessant chatting will annoy you, especially on a day like this.  Janey looks crestfallen at her mother’s light admonishment, but you shake your head, smiling at Evelyn.

              “No, it’s alright,” you tell Evelyn.  “I honestly don’t mind.”   Evelyn looks at you for a moment and then seems to understand.  Janey’s chattering is stopping you from focusing on the depth of the sadness you feel, which is a welcome distraction.   She keeps up the chatting while the rest of the chairs around you fill up, but she seems to sense when it’s time to be quiet because she eventually falls silent as the last people sit down and everyone turns their attention to the front.

              Leonard takes your hand and you thread your fingers through his as an Admiral moves to the front of the assembly and begins to speak.   She talks about how rare it is for shuttles to malfunction, and how very tragic it is that this accident has taken five lives.  She gives a brief biography of each person, starting with the pilot, co-pilot, crewmen and finally, the cadet. You’ve somehow managed to keep it together until she names the cadet and describes what he had been studying, talking about his life and future hopes and dreams.  Tears start to slip down your cheeks and you do your best to keep your breathing even, not wanting to attract attention.  You feel Leonard squeeze your hand and your squeeze back, staring resolutely ahead, swallowing each sob that threatens to escape you.

              The time comes for everyone to stand and you struggle to your feet, Leonard supporting you subtly, enough so that you don’t need your crutches. They’ve brought someone else to the front of the assembly, a small woman with a lovely voice that begins to sing a song to honour those lost.  Tears continue to stream down your face as you close your eyes, saying your own silent goodbye.   You can hear sniffing and muffled sobs around you, making it all the more difficult to stay composed.

              You suddenly feel a small, cool hand snake into yours and you look down to see Janey staring up at you, her big brown eyes full of tears. You give her a small, sad smile and close your hand around hers, then turn your face back to the front. Somehow, her hand on one side and Leonard’s on the other fills your heart with unexpected strength, and you swallow hard and take a deep breath, squeezing both of their hands at the same time. You don’t realize it at the time, but all five of you: Commander Morgan, Evelyn, Janey, yourself and Leonard have formed a chain, each holding the hands of the person next to them.  

              “We honour those who have passed, and those who risked their lives to help others in a time of peril.  Thank you for your service.  Rest in peace.”  

You feel Janey squeeze your hand again and you take a deep breath as you let go of hers, as Leonard briefly lets go of yours. As one, every cadet and officer in the assembly salutes, as do some of the civilians that are present.  There is a moment of complete silence;  the only sounds to be heard are the rustling of leaves, the odd bird call and the coos of a fussy baby a in the row behind you.  

              “Thank you.”

              The Admiral takes her leave, walking along the centre aisle of the crowd and disappearing from view.  A low murmur of talk breaks out among the crowd as people start to gather any belongings and file out of the rows.   Janey has thrown her arms around your waist and you stroke her hair distractedly as you gaze out at the caskets one last time, vowing to never forget those that had lost their lives while trying to keep everyone else safe.

 

* * *

 

              Two weeks later, your wounds have healed to scars and you can walk with only a faint limp and a small amount of pain.  Leonard has gotten the results of his make-up exam back and passed with flying colours (as if there was any doubt).  Zoe had returned from her shore leave and has helped you heal in emotional sense, staying up late and listening to you talk, chatting about other things or watching movies and eating giant bowls of popcorn with you.

              Now, she’s helping you get ready, fixing your hair and zipping up the back of your dress, then appraising your appearance with a quirked eyebrow.

              “You look amazing,” she decides, tossing the comb she’d been using to tame the part of your hair onto her bed.  “You’ll knock him dead.”

              “I don’t know, are you sure this dress is… me?” You peer down at yourself, then look in the mirror. You’re not used to wearing dresses, but you have to admit that it does look pretty cute.  The pale blue looks good with your hair and eyes, and the skirt is light and flowy.  She has done your makeup well; subtle eyeshadow and just a hint of blush, and she’s skillfully covered up the slowly fading scar on the side of your forehead.

              “Oh please, you look like that dress was made specifically for you.” Zoe claps happily, then hands you your purse.  She sees the look of apprehension in your eyes and sighs, walks over to you and grips your shoulders, shaking you slightly.   “He’s your  _soulmate_.  He’s already in love with you.  You have  _nothing_  to be worried about,” she tells you firmly, and you sigh, then give a shaky laugh.  

              “I guess you’re right.”

              “You  _know_  I’m right.  Now go! Get out of here!” You laugh as she swats you and you head for the door, limping only slightly in your strappy sandals. “Have fun!  I won’t wait up!” Zoe grins and winks at you as you shake your head, waving as you step out the door.

              Leonard is waiting for you at the end of the hallway, looking casually handsome in a nice pair of jeans, a dark grey v-neck t-shirt and a light, black leather jacket.  You smile a little bashfully as you approach him, especially as he looks over and sees you, his eyes lighting up as he takes in your appearance.

              “You look amazing,” he says, opening his arms as you get to him and giving you a warm, wonderful hug.  He leans down as you look up and your eyes flutter closed as he kisses you, feeling tingles of excitement shooting through you and making your legs a bit on the wobbly side.

              “You don’t look too bad yourself,” you say a little breathlessly, as he pulls out of the kiss.  He smirks at the waver in your voice, then holds out his arm.  You put your hand on it and he tucks it close to his side.

              “Ready for our first real date?”  he asks you, smiling as he begins to lead you forward.

              “You bet I am,” you say eagerly, as the two of you head out of the dorms and into the glow of the early evening sun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please review! I put a lot of emotion into this last chapter and I really want to know what people think! Thank you :)


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